Yes, I am Harry's Brother
by Ynyr
Summary: Five years after his defeat the shade of Voldemort visits Harry Potter, and has a slight accident with one of his Horcruxes. The Dark Lord wanted a new body, but this isn't what he had in mind.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note**: I posted this story a few years ago under my old pen name, but later deleted it. Now I'm posting it again.

* * *

The first thing the Dark Lord noticed when he opened his eyes was how green the trees were, which was curious since the date was the first of November. Then he looked at his translucent hand and realized that he was dead. Or was he? Had his Horcruxes worked or not? He had no way of knowing for sure. Only wizards and squibs could see ghosts, so he floated in the general direction of the nearby village of Godric's Hollow. He needed to test his theory as soon as possible. For the sake of his own sanity, if nothing else.

Slowly his memories of last night returned, but it wasn't actually last night was it? He had gone to kill the Potter child because of that bloody prophecy. Did he really believe in divination? No, but Voldemort had come too far, and was too close to his ultimate goals to take any unnecessary chances. He figured it was best to kill the imp now. Just to be safe.

James Potter had fallen quickly, but his transfiguration skills had been impressive. The fool should have spent more time studying the Dark Arts. The mother hadn't even fought. She just begged for the life of her child. He briefly wondered what Severus saw in her. She was physical beautiful, but so were thousands of other women. Still, he owed the Half-Blood Prince a debt, and he believed paying his debts. At least to his own Death Eaters.

He killed... what was her name again? Lily. He killed Lily Potter, but after her death he felt an unusual burst of magic. Being a cautious wizard he checked for any traps she might have left behind, but he found nothing out of the ordinary. Then he looked down at the boy in his crib.

Avada Kedavra.

Then... nothing. He had used the Killing Curse hundreds, maybe thousands of times. It was the source of his power, his mystique. Never once had it failed him, so what went wrong?

He musings were interrupted when a muggle woman began screaming. He could tell she was a muggle by her reaction; a witch would have politely asked for his name. She was looking directly at him, so he wasn't a ghost. Moving about in this new form wasn't easy for him, but when he took flight the banshee relented.

The woman would convince herself that the encounter had been a figment of her imagination, and soon would forget all about it. He had seen muggles do this countless times before when confronted with the existence of magic, and he often wondered why the Ministry of Magic bothered with Obliviators at all. The muggle's reaction meant that technically he wasn't a ghost, so what was he? And if his original plan had succeed, how soon could he return to his corporeal form?

* * *

Five years later Lord Voldemort found himself floating in the dreary muggle town of Little Whinging in Surrey. And he was still in his incorporeal form. Was he going to be trapped in his own personal hell forever? As he surveyed the banal neighborhood it seemed possible, even probable. His long journey to this point had been a grueling one, and he still no closer to regaining his body.

It had taken a good year of practice just to learn how to move about without attracting attention. He was generally limited to the three or four hours just before dawn, since traveling at any other time was an invitation to disaster. Voldemort had a nasty feeling that Albus Dumbledore was still looking for him, and he couldn't afford to leave the old man even the smallest of clues. Nor was he willing to show himself to his Death Eaters. In his current weakened condition even his dear Bellatrix might be tempted to betray him, to say nothing of an opportunistic worm like Lucius Malfoy.

Secure in his ability to kept himself concealed, Voldemort slowly made his way to Diagon Alley. Hogsmeade was too close to Dumbledore's seat of power, and London offered endless places for a shade to hide. Once in the Alley he began hunting for discarded copies of the _Daily Prophet_ lying about on the cobstones, and looking for information about the war. This was so frustrating and time-consuming that he began experimenting with animal possession. As the Heir of Slytherin he had a great deal of experience with snakes, but rats and small cats proved to be more useful. Perfecting this skill had taken him another year, but in the end the joy of having hands—or rather paws—again was worth the effort.

That joy turned out to be short-lived. In those old copies of the _Daily Prophet_ he learned about the Boy-Who-Lived, and his miraculous defeat of You-Know-Who. It was all nonsense. Looking back over that night it was clear that Lily Potter had created some sort of magical trap just before her death. It pained Voldemort to admit it, but Dumbledore was just as much of a genius as he was, so his former Headmaster must have figured out the truth as well. So why he was his spreading this cock-and-bull story about the Boy-Who-Lived?

The logical answer was that he wanted to humiliate his former adversary. How could anyone take a Dark Lord seriously if he had been defeated by a child. This plan appeared to be working. Lucius was the first of many Death Eaters who claim that they had only served Voldemort because of the Imperius Curse. Bellatrix and a few others had remained loyal, but they were now locked away in Azkaban. His decision not to trust anyone in his current condition had proven to be a wise one.

* * *

At this point Voldemort considered leaving the country and traveling to Eastern Europe. He had several hidden bases there, and they would provide him with a sanctuary while he plotted his next move. Then he got his first lucky break since his so-called death. One night that buffoon Cornelius Fudge had paid visit to Knockturn Alley, and he came out of a low-rent bordello too intoxicated to use the Floo at the Leaky Cauldron. On a lark Voldemort decided to follow the idiot as he stumbled back to his London townhouse.

Over the next few months Fudge's home office turned out to be a veritable goldmine of information. The man was taking bribes from anyone who offered them, including Lucius. His former Death Eater asked his new friend for many favors, one of which was the current address of Harry Potter. For a sizable quantity of galleons Fudge had actually handed it over. Did the moron have any concept of what would happen if Potter was killed, and he was discovered to be the source of the leak? The Ministry would probably feed his soul to the Dementors, and then throw his lifeless body into the Veil out of spite.

A few days later Voldemort traveled to Surrey so he could observe Lucius' assassination attempt. He had always kept a safe distance from Potter's new home. Whatever kind of defenses Dumbledore had protecting the boy, they were sure to be formidable. If he couldn't kill Malfoy and the other traitors himself, at least he could watch as they died during their futile mission.

But it was not to be. Why? The answer was simple: blood wards. They stopped his former Death Eaters cold. They tried to bypass the wards, but the prospect of facing Dumbledore without their master's protection forced them to retreat in failure after only a few minutes.

Of all the magical defenses the old man could have employed. To combine even small amounts of blood with magic was considered a dark ritual by the Ministry of Magic, and was punishable by a long sentence in Azkaban. Yet here was the self-described Light Lord using it to protect the great Harry Potter.

The entire situation was so bizarre that Voldemort returned the next night to study the wards. There was powerful magic at work here in Little Whinging, and he had to understand it even if it meant delaying his search for a new body. Night after night he circled around the magical boundary. Then he finally remembered where he had felt this specific type of magic before. Somehow these blood wards were connected to the night when he had lost his body. Dumbledore had taken that unknown magic Lily Potter had summoned, and was now using it to protect her son. By Merlin he was a cunning old wanker.

But how to defeat it? Voldemort racked his brain trying to remember everything he knew about blood magic, which quite a bit given his background as a Dark Lord. It was very dangerous and very useful magic, but it did have its limits.

Of course! The wards rejected his Death Eaters because they intended to kill Potter. As long as you meant the boy no harm, the wards would allow you to pass through unharmed. He had to test this theory. It was a foolish thing to do, but if he could no longer defeat Dumbledore with his wand he could still defeat him with his mind. His ego would accept nothing less than victory.

So here it was five years to the day after Voldemort's downfall that he was again going to pay Harry Potter a visit. He had made his plans months ago, but had opted to wait until Samhain to make the attempt. It was a sacred time for all wizards and witches. For on this one night the barriers between the various worlds were at their weakest, and many powerful forces were liberated for a short time.

Despite having no lungs he took a deep breath and passed through the blood ward.

His insane plan had worked.

* * *

After hiding in this wretched house Voldemort for a week still couldn't make up his mind about several subjects. Should he leave this place to continue his search for a new body, or should he stay and try to learn more about the unique magic which had almost killed him? Should he feel joy at Potter's suffering, or should he feel rage at these loathsome muggles? Was the boy's life a comedy, or was it a tragedy? And most importantly, why was Albus Dumbledore leaving him here to suffer? It was a new experience for the Dark Lord to have so many questions and so few answers.

Potter's dreadful living conditions reminded Voldemort of his own youth, but in some ways this place was even worse. Yes, life at the orphanage had been brutal, but that had been true for all of the orphans. It was the survival of the fittest, and no one had been shown any love or even affection by the staff. But here in this house Potter saw how his Aunt and Uncle loved their own son, and how they despised him. Voldemort honestly believed that one day the boy would return and murder them, just as he had murdered his own muggle family all those years ago.

For the first time in decades—perhaps for the first time ever—Voldemort felt a genuine connection with another human being. Regrettably that other human being was dying for some unknown reason. The blood wards which surrounded and infused the house could not tolerate the boy's suffering. The living magic was reacting in strange and unusual ways, which was fascinating for Voldemort since he loved to study new forms of magic.

After a week the volatile blood wards attacked him without any warning. Fortunately he was hiding in the attic at the time.

* * *

After five years of feeling nothing at all, Voldemort suddenly felt far too much. He recognized at once that he had a new body, and he also had a new stomach that was empty. He was naked and lying on dirty wooden floor, so his new skin was cold and his new muscles ached. He was thirsty too. The attic was dark, so he tried to cast a wandless Lumos. It didn't go very well. In fact it felt like someone was jamming a hot needle directly into his brain. Something was terrible wrong with his magic.

A lesser man who have panicked, but not Voldemort. His magical problems would have to wait. First he had to get out of this house before anyone noticed his presence. It was about two in the morning, but he knew he still had to move quickly. If Dumbledore showed up to investigate this disturbance he was as good as dead. As he quietly got to his feet, Voldemort received another shock. In his past life he had been a very tall man, but now he was short. Very, very short. Probably a child.

Again he showed his mettle, because child or not he still had to leave. Voldemort had memorized the floor plan during his week-long visit, and as he lowered the ladder from the attic he mentally planned his escape. First he would hit the laundry, where he could steal plenty of clothes. Both boys left their shoes by the backdoor, so he would take a pair as he was leaving. There were two knapsacks and several coats hanging in a nearby closet.

But what to do for money? The fat Uncle left his wallet and keys in a porcelain dish by the telly, so that should be enough for now. If there was one thing Voldemort knew how to do in the muggle world, it was how to steal. It had been the only way to survive during his time in the orphanage. Besides all he needed was enough money to reach one of his hidden storage depots. And last but not least, he needed some food and water.

The one weakness in this plan was the fact that Harry Potter slept right under the stairs. But after a week of agony the boy's pain was finally gone, so he was now resting peacefully. Voldemort managed to get dressed and feed himself without a sound. The fat Uncle's wallet supplied him with thirty pounds, which was more than he had expected. As he was putting on an old pair of trainers, he looked up at a mirror hanging on the wall and saw his new body for the first time.

It was as he feared: this was the body of a child. But not just any child. He was a Potter. Not quite a twin of young Harry, but definitely a close relation. And his eyes—they were no longer red but instead a pale gray. Quite spectacular actually.

Voldemort stopped to ponder this puzzle. During his observations of Potter he had noticed that his mere presence had caused an intense reaction in the boy. The pain was usually centered around the strange scar on his forehead, and it affected him even while he was asleep.

As Voldemort laced up his stolen trainers, he came up with a new theory: perhaps Potter was a living Horcrux. Perhaps the blood wards which protected the boy had spontaneously created a magical bridge between the two of them. Then with one powerful burst of magic it returned to Voldemort the portion of his soul which he accidentally lost five years ago, and gave him a new body in the process. It made a certain amount of sense... or at least as much sense as magic ever did.

However the true explanation for his new body—and the problem of his erratic magic—would have to wait for now. The nearest bus terminal was four kilometers away, and he would have to be on guard for any law enforcement officers during the trip.

But it didn't matter, because Voldemort had never been so happy in his entire life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note**: I posted this story a few years ago under my old pen name, but later deleted it. Now I'm posting it again.

* * *

It was a delicate balancing act. Scanning the bus terminal for his intended victims, while at the same time avoiding anyone who might question what a six year-old was doing here alone so early in the morning. As much as Voldemort wanted to use his magic, he could not afford another painful episode like the one he had in Potter's attic. If he was taken to a hospital there was no way he could avoid the notice of the muggle government.

Voldemort had briefly considered turning himself in to the proper authorities, since it was the easiest way he could think of to establish an new identity for this new body. However that option would rob him of his freedom for an unknown amount of time. Besides, he had taken a personal oath never to return to an orphanage, or whatever the muggles called its modern equivalent.

There was his first victim. Voldemort recognized that look from long experience: the man was definately a pedophile. As a beautiful child who roamed the worst streets in London, he had often attracted the attention of such men. He had even been caught a few times before he learned how to control his wandless magic. Individuals like this were so easy to manipulate, and best of all he wouldn't even have to spend any of his own money.

"Sir, could I have a minute of your time? My mum is sick today, but I have to buy a bus ticket to York. Could you please help me?"

_These beautiful gray eyes are going to be very useful_, Voldemort thought as his victim quickly agreed to cooperate.

After the pedophile bought a ticket for him, Voldemort gentle lead him over to the waiting bus. Once they were close enough to the door he turned to his second victim, a very large and angry-looking skinhead whose neck was covered with several tattoos.

"Excuse me Sir. This man wants me to put my hand down his trousers, but I don't want to do that. Could you please help me?"

As expected the enraged skinhead then began thrashing the pedophile. Everyone was busy watching the fight, so Voldemort boarded the bus without the driver noticing a thing. He found an empty seat far in the back, and sat down with a smile on his face. The long ride north would give him plenty of time to experiment with his wandless magic.

* * *

"Thank you for the ride Mrs Fisher. My father's house is right over that hill," Voldemort told the kind old lady who had given him a ride from the bus terminal. For once in his life he was actually telling a muggle the truth.

Little Hangleton was about an hour outside of York, but it was too insignificant for daily travel service to the rest of the United Kingdom. Finding the right person to act as his temporary chauffeur had taken him two hours, but Mrs Fisher also bought him a hot dinner, so he wasn't too annoyed.

What did annoy him was the pitiful state of his magic. As a boy he had endlessly tested his special **gift** to discover what he was capable of, and even at six he had been able to perform several different bits of magic. He also had decades of experiences to call upon now. Given these factors he should have been able to cast a wide variety of wandless spells, even at this age. Instead he was little better than a squib.

So far he had been able to come up with two possible explanations for his drastic reduction in magical strength. One theory was that this new body was somehow defective, and if what was the case there really wasn't much he could do about it right now. The second theory had to do with his Horcruxes, which is why he had decided to come back to his parent's home village. Voldemort wanted all of his magical strength back, and that meant he had to conduct a dangerous experiment. Of course he had to get his little hands on a wand first.

After Voldemort murdered his father's family, it had amused him to secretly acquire their ancestral estate. The caretaker Frank Bryce was already in bed for the night, so no one saw him enter the dilapidated house. After a bit of exploring in the dusty basement he found a broken shard of glass to cut his hand. The small amount of blood allowed him to open the hidden passageway to his supply depot.

Inside the small underground cave was a chest containing several items in magical stasis. One pouch held five thousand pounds; the paper currency was old, but it was still in excellent condition. Voldemort also grabbed the a Mokeskin pouch holding five hundred galleons. There were a number of robes, but they were all sized for an adult wizard. It was a good thing he had learned how to mend his own clothes while living at the orphanage. It was one of the few practical skills the muggles had ever taught him.

But the real prize in the chest was the collection of ten wands, all of which similar to his original phoenix-feather and yew wand. Five had phoenix-feather cores, while the other five were made of yew wood. Voldemort gathered what little magic he had, and grabbed the first one. Nothing. It was only the ninth wand—yew wood with a dragon-heart core—which gave him any results at all. Even with this wand he was still weak, but hopefully it would be enough.

The Gaunt shack was just as he had remembered it. To Voldemort this pathetic hovel was both a symbol of his Slytherin heritage and of his own towering brilliance. Even though the Gaunt family had been reduced to living in squalor, he had still risen to become the greatest wizard in the world. He truly had no equal.

All of the magical wards around the Gaunt Ring were still intact, so he drew his new wand to disable the first one. It was only then that he realized just how far he had fallen. The shack held over two dozen separate wards, but removing only the first one had left him exhausted. This was going to take far longer than he had originally planned.

Night after night Voldemort returned to his mother's home, and slowly worked his way towards the Ring Horcrux. After he had exhausted himself each night he walked to the nearby village and stole some food. Then return to his basement storage depot to sleep during the day. He didn't have a comfortable bed, but after five years as a spirit he welcomed the aches and pains that greet him each evening after sleeping all day on the hard floor.

Voldemort took great care to avoid being seen, since he didn't want anyone to connect this new childish body with his previous life as Tom Riddle. This cycle repeated itself for three weeks till he removed the final flesh-withering curse from the Ring itself.

In all his extensive studies, Voldemort had only found a few scraps of information about Horcruxes. Every bit of that limited information agreed that regaining your body after it was destroyed was **not** a spontaneous process. Yet that is exactly what had happened to him. Instead of having to perform a complex dark ritual, those mysterious blood wards had provide him with this defective little body.

The original ritual he had pieced together from the historical records would have returned all of his magic to him at once. That had not happen in this case. Instead Voldemort theorized that the scattered pieces of his soul also held the scattered pieces of his magic. If he wanted to recover all that magic, he would have to reassemble his very soul. Piece by piece.

To that end Voldemort placed the Gaunt Ring on his right hand and spoke an ancient incantation. The reintegration of his torn soul was an excruciating painful process, especially for the body of a six year-old. Luckily he had the foresight to perform the ritual in the basement. Despite all the screaming Frank Bryce never noticed his presence. Once Voldemort regained his composure he started to methodically test his magic. He wasn't sure if he should feel relieved or angry. The ritual had worked just as planned.

His magic had improved, but the was still no stronger than your average first-year Hufflepuff. For a man whose magic had previously made him into a god-like figure this was intolerable. What was the point of immorality without his great magical strength? Better to died than accept such a fate. No, he would gather and then destroy his own Horcruxes. If this new body proved to be stable, he would have a hundred years to find new method to cheat death. A method without these negative side-effects.

But how to go about reaching the Horcruxes in his current condition? Bellatrix kept the Hufflepuff Cup in her Gringotts Vault, and she was still locked-up in Azkaban. Even at full strength Voldemort would have been reluctant to attack the island prison without the aid of his Death Eaters.

His Diary was being held by Lucius Malfoy, and that fact presented him with a dangerous problem. With Dumbledore's great age and Fudge's great stupidity, it was only a matter of time until Lucius was the most powerful wizard in the United Kingdom. Given his weakened state Voldemort knew the pureblood aristocrat would do one of two things: he would either take his former master as a prisoner, or he would just eliminate the competition and proclaim himself the new Dark Lord. Neither option appealed to Voldemort, so the Diary was off limits for now.

Despite the Dumbledore's great age, attempting to enter Hogwarts to recover the Ravenclaw Diadem would be suicidal while he was trapped in the body of a child. That left the Locket which he had placed in the sea-side cave; a cave which happened to be at the other end of the country. No matter. With his current level of magical strength traveling would be far less difficult. After he had absorbed a second Horcrux he would again measure his strength. Only then would he consider his future options.

As Voldemort gather all his valuables he decided to find a muggle woman, who he would place under the Imperius Curse. Traveling as a mother and son duo would help him avoid the wrong kind of attention. With the money he had found here in Little Hangleton the trip south would take only a few hours.

* * *

One of the more rewarding aspects of being a Dark Lord was when you felt like torturing or killing someone, you just went out and did it. At the moment Voldemort wanted nothing more than to cause as much pain as he possibly could. It was a pity he had already killed that traitor Regulus Black, but torturing his hag Dolores Umbridge offered him some consolation.

After he discovered the false Locket, Voldemort had killed the muggle women he was traveling with by feeding her to the Inferi. It wasn't enough to cool his rage, so he came to London with every intention of killing Cornelius Fudge. If the current Minister of Magic was replaced by someone like Amelia Bones, it would cause Lucius no end of political problems. Maybe the worm would even end up in Azkaban where he belonged.

However as he kept watch over Fudge's house his mind began to clear. Oh, he still wanted to hurt someone, but only if it helped him achieve his long-term goals. With the rest of his Horcruxes out of reach for the time being, Voldemort turned to his other major problem: this bloody body. He was almost certain that he was now genetically related to Harry Potter, but that wasn't the same as being absolutely certain.

The Ministry of Magic had extensive blood records of all pureblood families in United Kingdom for the last eight-hundred years, and he needed to gain access to those records to prove his new identity. That was how a young Tom Riddle had managed to confirm his status as the Heir of Slytherin back during the thirties. If he was going to risk visiting the Ministry of Magic he might as well steal the Prophecy Orb while he was there. It might prove to be useful in the future.

That was why he was now torturing Dolores Umbridge. By chance he had seen her coming out of Fudge's house last night, and he remembered watching the hag duel once. Her magical skills were pitiful, and she proved to be no match for him, even in his weakened state. Voldemort had decided that Dolores was going to take her new **cousin** (who would magically share his **Aunt's** hideous looks) on a private tour of the Ministry of Magic.

This tour would conveniently include the room where they kept the blood records, as well as the Hall of Prophecy. Once Voldemort was done with Umbridge he would obviate her memories of the last few days, but first he wanted to soften her up a bit. He would be holding her under the Imperius Curse for several hours tomorrow, and with his current level of magical strength he wouldn't afford any unnecessary complications.

* * *

Two days later Voldemort was riding a swing at the Little Whinging playground while his new muggle mother waited nearby. He was watching Harry Potter's fat cousin Dudley terrorized the other children. It turned out that his new family wasn't much better than his old one. That is what his trip to the Ministry of Magic had officially confirmed: he was indeed a member of the Potter family.

When Voldemort had placed a sample of his new blood into the magical artifact which held the blood records the results had come back as Potter/unknown. Years before when Tom Riddle had tested his blood in the same room, and the results had come back as unknown/Gaunt. Thanks to the Wizengamot his new blood status had the full weight of the law behind it. He was legally a member of the Potter family, and no one—not even Albus Dumbledore himself—could change that fact.

As a bonus it also meant that the blood wards protecting Harry Potter no longer had any power over him. He passed right through them despite the fact he has coming to Little Whinging to kill his new brother. Why finish the job now? Well, Voldemort had also been able to steal the Prophecy Orb during his tour, and the idea of this **Power** the boy was suppose to have frightened him. What could it possible be? It was Lily Potter who had defeated him that night, and her infant son had nothing to do with it.

What if he attacked the boy now in his current weakened state, and this mysterious **Power** was somehow able to defeat him? Perhaps he should analyze his little brother before he did anything rash. And while Voldemort was tying to pinpoint this **Power**, he would also be placing himself behind the blood wards which would protect him from the Death Eaters. Once the public learned about the existence of a second Potter, they would be eager for revenge by proxy.

Little Whinging would also serve as an excellent home base while he waited for his Hogwarts acceptance letter. Voldemort had been considering several ways to break into his old school and retrieve the Ravenclaw Diadem, but if he was a new first-year student no such illegal action would be required. After all, the easiest way to rob a bank is to walk through the front door.

This new plan would take several years, but he had always believed that patience was a virtue. During those years he would strengthen this new body and conduct a few more experiments—both on himself and on Harry Potter. Hopefully he would discover that this unknown **Power** really was, and find a way to safely defeat it.

But before he could become part of new and improved Potter family he have to take care of several problems first. Voldemort jumped off the swing and walked over to meet his cousin Dudley. His Legilimency was weak, but breaking into the mind of a child didn't take much effort. He quickly found what he was looking for. Yes, that would do nicely.

That weekend Vernon Dursley took his son to see a cricket match, while Harry was left at home to help his Aunt with the housework. During the match a fire broke-out under the old wooden bleachers, and over fifty spectators were killed in a matter of minutes. Among the victims were the Vernon and Dudley Dursley. Voldemort was quite pleased with his handiwork. It looked like a tragic accident, so Albus Dumbledore would have no reason to suspect foul play.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note**: I posted this story a few years ago under my old pen name, but later deleted it. Now I'm posting it again.

* * *

"Are you right handed or left handed?" asked Mr Ashlar, who happened to be the premier wand-maker in New York City.

Voldemort pondered the question for a moment. He had always wanted to be ambidextrous, and it would confuse poor Dumbledore. "Left handed."

Making it to the United States had been a simple affair. Voldemort had spent a day wandering around Heathrow Airport, looking for a child who could roughly pass as his twin. When he found one, he followed the boy and his father into the loo, and stole their passports. Without using any magic. He was glad to see he hadn't lost his touch as a thief. Soon Voldemort found himself traveling over the Atlantic Ocean being fussed over by the flight attendants who all thought he was so brave for traveling alone. They also thought he was adorable, which annoyed him for some reason.

While a stolen passport was good enough to get him through United State's Customs, it was strictly a short-term solution. Unlike most wizards who believe in erasing all trances of their existence, Voldemort had learned the value of official government documents during his time at the orphanage.

Poor Mrs Cole—who ran that wretched hellhole—had been a raging alcoholic, so a young Tom Riddle volunteered to do her paperwork during the summer. He quickly learned how to manipulate the government bureaucracy in London, and managed to embezzle several thousand pounds before his graduation from Hogwarts. He had no doubt that Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix would soon be looking into his fake past, and he wanted to establish an identity that would stand-up under intense scrutiny.

That was why he was here in New York City. Using his limited Legilimency, he had hired a corrupt private detective who was searching the city records for another twin for his new body. The child's mother had to be single without a living husband, and she had to have visited the United Kingdom sometime during the late seventies.

How had a child hired a private detective? It seemed that the United States had emptied its mental hospitals during the past twenty years, and as a result the homeless population included a number of people with severe mental problems. Voldemort had found a particularly disturbed man on the streets of New York City, and placed him under the Imperius Curse. He also removed his tongue with a Cutting Hex. Having a mute father engendered sympathy, and it allowed Voldemort to do all the talking.

He and his new father then started exchanging his hoard of British pounds at a dozen local banks. In short order they had several thousand American dollars. This was more than enough to rent a hotel room, buy some new clothes, and hire a private detective.

While he waited for the results of the search, Voldemort decided that he needed a proper wand. The magical government of the United States—much like their muggle counterparts—had strong opinions about the right to bear arms. If a six-year old boy wanted a new wand for Christmas, that was fine so long as he had the galleons to pay for it. Unfortunately Voldemort's new body was proving to be a difficult customer for the talented Mr Ashlar. They had gone through a hundred different wands, and like Ollivander back home the American wizard thought the endless hunt was exhilarating. Voldemort felt otherwise.

"Don't worry son, I will find you one yet. Now be truthfully with me. You aren't on a budget, are you?"

"No."

Voldemort had hit several of his other storage depots before embarking on his transatlantic journey, so he was carrying plenty of spare galleons. He even considered opening an account at the local branch of Gringotts, but decided against it. You could never trust a filthy Goblin.

"Good, that's what I wanted to hear. Now lets try out some of the wands from my special collection." With these words the Mr Ashlar turned and opened a vault carefully hidden in one of the shop's walls. He brought out a metal case holding several beautiful wands, and handed Voldemort the first one. "Let's see if you get a reaction with this puppy."

The wand in question was short in length and light in color, but by Merlin did it respond to his magic. Even with his limited power Voldemort felt as if he could duel Dumbledore himself.

"What kind of wand is this?"

"Have you ever read _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_?"

The Dark Lord searched his memory for a few seconds. "The children's book? You aren't going to tell me that this is the Elder Wand are you?" His tiny hand itched to cast a Cruciatus Curse on the American wizard.

"No. That isn't the Elder Wand itself, but in my reckless youth I attempted to craft a wand with similar properties. This little masterpiece has a thestral hair at its core, and the wood is three-thousand year-old bristlecone pine. Son, that is a true wand of power."

"How much is this masterpiece going to cost me?"

"Five hundred galleons. As you can imagine, three-thousand year-old trees are kind of hard to find."

Mr Ashlar wasn't lying. This was a wand of power, much like his old phoenix-feather and yew wand. When he regained his all his magical power who knows what he could accomplish with this masterpiece in his hand.

"You have yourself a deal."

* * *

"There she is buying a newspaper: Gina Bianchini and her son Vito. She's quite a beauty, isn't she? They live right across the street in that highrise apartment building. As you can see, the boy could be your identical twin."

It was true. The boy's dark hair, gray eyes, bone structure, and height were all a perfect match for his own. Most private detectives were honest law-abiding citizens, and at first glance the slender man Voldemort had hired seemed harmless enough. But even a brief look into his mind made it clear that he would cut his own mother's throat for enough money. Voldemort felt it was a pleasure to be working side-by-side with such a professional again after his long years of isolation.

"Yes, the boy is a excellent likeness. On the phone you mentioned something about a large inheritance. How much is this Gina Bianchini worth?"

"About five million, and she has no other family members to share it with. Her current will states that the brat gets everything."

"And you have proof that she traveled to the United Kingdom nine months before his birth?" Voldemort asked.

"She was in London for close to six weeks. There is plenty of evidence which will substantiate her visit," the private detective assured him.

"Are there any official records of your search for Mrs Bianchini and young Vito?"

"They've all been destroyed. **All** of them. I'm very careful to cover my tracks in special cases like this."

It was clear that the detective knew this entire situation was leading to a crime of some sort, so of course he didn't want any records to exist. Voldemort knew the man was planning on double-crossing him and his father as soon as possible. He plan to kill them, take their money, and then bury their bodies somewhere in a New Jersey swamp. What the stupid muggle didn't know was that Voldemort was planning on doing the exact same thing. Only he was going to do it first.

* * *

It had taken a small army of American lawyers and five months of painstaking legal work, but Voldemort was finally back where it all start. He raised his hand and knocked on the door of Number Four, Privet Drive. It was Harry who opened the door, and strangely enough he wasn't wearing his ugly black glasses.

"Hello. Who you are?" the Boy-Who-Lived asked.

"Hello. This is my solicitor Mr Whitehorse, and I am your brother Vito," replied You-Know-Who with his best American accent.

Harry's green eyes opened as wide as they could go. The situation was too much for a six year-old to handle, so he began screaming: "Aunt Petunia! Aunt Petunia! Aunt Petunia!"

"Calm down boy. What is this all about?"

The muggle hag looked dreadful... and angry, which was exactly the state Voldemort wanted her in. On the other hand Harry couldn't stop staring at him. The boy was even trembling a little bit.

"Hello Mrs Dursley. My name is Kevin Whitehorse and I am a solicitor for young Vito Potter here." They had already legally changed his name. "We have some important information to share with you..."

Much like the now-dead American private detective, the London solicitor Voldemort had hired was a bottom-dweller with no sense of morality. Whitehorse gracefully launched into the tale of how Gina Bianchini had meet James Potter back during the late seventies, and that Vito was the product of their short but passionate affair. However a few months ago, Mrs Bianchini had been killed when she was hit by a garbage truck right in front of her only child. Petunia was all too happy to listen to this juicy gossip about her sister's prick of a husband. But then she realized where this tale of woe was headed.

"This is all very interesting, but what do you want **me** to do about it? I can barely support my nephew Harry, and now you want to take care of James Potter's little bastard as well. I sorry, but he is no relation of mine," Petunia sneered.

Voldemort thought it was best to put his cards on the table straight away. "I have a trust fund. A very big trust fund."

After the **accident** the American garbage company had paid young Vito a healthy settlement in order to avoid a trial, since they were terrified of how much a jury would award such a cute little orphan. That plus his inheritance from his mother meant that he now had a trust fund of two million pounds—even after taxes and legal fees.

"Yes, Vito Potter is willing to pay you a healthy allowance for the opportunity to live here with his half-brother Harry," Whitehorse added.

That was all it really took. After Vernon's death his life insurance policy had barely covered the mortgage on this small house. Petunia had no job at the moment, nor was she likely to find one that paid well. She and Harry had to live on was government assistance, which was the ultimate humiliation for a former member of the middle class. Now she was being offered a lifeline to escape this financial disaster. How could she not take it?

"Well, I suppose it would be good for my nephew to get to know his brother. We will take him in, but we expect Vito to help with the expenses. Living in a nice town like Little Whinging isn't cheap."

When Harry heard these words he began crying, and before Voldemort could stop him the boy wrapped him in a tight hug. How was he going to survive five years of this?

The negotiations lasted for a few more minutes. Petunia wanted a ample cash allowance each month, but that would give her too much independence. The solicitor countered by offering to settle her late husband's many outstanding debts. Vito Potter also promised to pay the utility bills each month. His new Aunt still wanted cash, so they threw in a new Mercedes-Benz estate car to close the deal. If Voldemort was going to have to settle for muggle transportation, he wanted a safe car to ride around in. Petunia agreed to sign the legal papers once she saw the Mercedes.

"And it had better be red, or the deal is off," she added.

* * *

It was close to midnight when Harry finally fell asleep. After he stopped crying Voldemort had been force to answer an endless number of questions about his life, and the experience taxed even his creative storytelling abilities. The boy wanted to know everything about his new brother Vito. What was New York City like? Are the buildings really that tall? Did he like school? Did he play any sports? What was it like to have a real mother?

That last one question almost pierced his cold heart. Almost. The lies Voldemort told Harry were all vague generalizations which hopefully wouldn't come back to haunt him later on. That night Harry insisted on sleeping with him in the same bed, an unacceptable arrangement which was going to change tomorrow night. The situation was irritating, especially since Voldemort had business to take care of before dawn. After midnight he carefully got out of the small bed, and put his trainers back on.

His destination was the tracking system the Ministry of Magic used to detect illegal underage magic in Surrey. Voldemort planned on using plenty of magic over the next five years, so he had to counter the device which the Aurors had hidden in a local church's bell tower. He couldn't just destroy it, since that would attract too much attention from the Aurors—and even worse, from Dumbledore. Instead he had purchased a special rune stone in New York City that would feed the Ministry of Magic false signals. His task completed, he returned to Number Four, Privet Drive to begin cooking breakfast.

"So Vito, have you given any thought to your education?" Aunt Petunia asked between bites of the spinach and bacon omelet he had prepared.

"Harry and I have already been enrolled at a nearby public school, and the tuition has been paid for in advance. How does that sound to you, Harry?"

"I don't care where we go to school, as long as long as we go together."

"Don't you think you should have asked my permission before making a major decision like that?" Petunia asked in a prissy voice.

"Whenever I had a problem my mother always told me to wave my special **wand** over it, and the problem would **magically** go away."

Harry laughed at this silly statement, but Petunia's face turned white.

"Harry, we are going shopping today. Go upstairs and take a bath."

After the boy left the kitchen Voldemort pulled out his new wand, and cleared the table with a flick of his wrist. "He doesn't know the truth about his parents, does he?"

"No. Vernon hated magic even more than I do, so we told him they died in a car accident. Does Headmaster Dumbledore know about you?"

"No, and that is the way we are going to kept it. Even in the United States that old man has a reputation for sticking his nose in places it doesn't belong. I think you should also go have a word with Arabella Figg up the street, since she is Dumbledore's spy here in Little Whinging. Remember Aunt Petunia: if I go, my money goes with me."

"How do you know about all these things at your age?"

"Unlike you, my mother believed I should be prepared for my life as a wizard. She had a great deal of money, which meant she had many sources of information. She told me all about my brother Harry, and how poorly he was being treated by your late husband. My solicitor has some very interesting information he could share with the authorities."

"Then why haven't you done that already?" Petunia asked.

"I told you: I want to get to know my brother, and I think the three of us can be quite happy living here together. Or should I pack my things and go?"

* * *

During the next year Voldemort did get to know this brother. After Petunia took him to Diagon Alley for some much-needed supplies, he began running every magical test he could think of to discover Harry's unique **Power**. He found absolutely nothing. The boy was going to be a magical powerhouse when he matured, but other than that he was a perfectly normal wizard. That included his eyesight, which must have been corrected when the Horcrux was removed from his forehead.

For the first few months Voldemort kept Harry in the dark about being a wizard. It was just another way to maintain his dominance. However if he wanted to conduct more in-depth tests, he would have to start teaching the boy about magic. The only way to gather new data about Harry's potential abilities was to watch as he used a wand and cast certain basic spells.

When Voldemort told Harry the truth about his parents he was so happy that he began crying again. A week later they took a little vacation to New York City with Aunt Petunia. If they tried to buy a wand from Ollivander's shop Dumbledore would learn about it by the end of the day. That was unacceptable, since Voldemort want to keep his existence a secret for as long as possible. Harry was fascinated by everything during their vacation to the United States, but the prospect of his own wand had him bouncing off the walls.

"Well look who's back. How has that wand been treating you? You haven't had any problems with it, have you?" Mr Ashlar asked when the two boys walked in his shop with their unhappy Aunt Petunia. She had only agreed to this vacation after receiving a healthy bribe. A very healthy bribe.

"No, there hasn't been any problems with my wand," Voldemort replied. "In fact I was so happy with its performance that I brought my little brother here to buy his first wand."

It took only six candidates before Harry found his match. "Birch wood with a unicorn-hair core. A fine wand, if I do say so myself," Mr Ashlar explained.

Voldemort couldn't help it. He started laughing. "A unicorn-hair core. That is such a girly wand."

"Shut up Vito!" Harry yelled. "It is **not** a girly wand!"


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note**: I posted this story a few years ago under my old pen name, but later deleted it. Now I'm posting it again.

* * *

Voldemort's exploration of Harry's magical abilities wasn't his only failure during those early years. Every test and experiment he ran on his new body came up negative. All the information he gathered seemed to suggest that it was nothing more or less than the healthy body of a young wizard. He still had no clue how it was created, or how to repair its defects.

Another unpleasant shock for Voldemort during these experiments was his lack of magical finesse. He had always assumed that his skill with a wand was unmatched, but now he could see that wasn't the case. They say that to a hammer, every problem is a nail. The same was true for him. Every spell he cast used the maximum amount of magic. Now that he had access to only a faction of his normal strength, he had to disassemble and then reassemble every spell to see if he could cast it with less power. This magical reeducation took him a few years, but he gradually learned how to cast the same spells with only a fraction of the power.

This process was greatly accelerated when he began tutoring his brother. Voldemort once read that you don't really understand certain ideas until you were forced to teach them to someone else. In the past he had dismissed that idea as hokum, but as he taught Harry the basics of magic he found there was a great deal of truth to it. Concepts he hadn't given a thought to in decades took on new meaning as he tried to hammer them into Harry's thick skull.

The boy wasn't stupid, but he wasn't a genius either. Voldemort was, so he dreading returning to school. To his surprise he found that he rather enjoyed it. He always loved learning, and in the time since he entered Hogwarts many things had changed in the larger muggle world. Too many things, in fact. While Harry Potter struggled to gain acceptable marks, Vito Potter effortlessly breezed to the top of the class. He did this without paying much—if any—attention to their teachers.

Instead Voldemort focused on the far more advanced books he purchased during his trips to London's many bookstores. During his first childhood he vaguely recalled hearing about things like Quantum Mechanics and the Theory of Relatively, but he never really studied them. Now he did. And physics wasn't the only subject that intrigued him.

In many way the progress in biology was even more sensational. The muggles had clearly surpassed the magical world in its understanding of the human body. While healers could still perform certain tasks—like regrowing bones—that were beyond the capabilities of muggle doctors, wizards were still profoundly ignorant of the underlying mechanics of life. He doubted if anyone at St. Mungo's had even heard of DNA.

This pattern repeated itself everywhere, even in the easier subject like geology. The muggles had discovered Plate Tectonics; a theory which clearly explained the origins of the Continents, mountain ranges, earthquakes, and volcanoes. Wizards had never come-up with anything remotely like it. And while wizards studied astronomy at Hogwarts, the muggles had actually sent their mechanical ships to explore all the plants in the solar system. They had even landed their machines on the surface of Mars and Venus, and sent dozens of men to the moon itself.

However it was the new muggle technology that made the deepest impression on Voldemort. The telephone and the television had been around for most of his life, but the new computers they used at school actually frightened him. Nothing wizards created was a powerful as the tiny microchips the muggle produced in such endless numbers. Nothing.

If the muggles ever began new witch-hunts, the combination of their science and new technology would soon crush the magical world. Voldemort had first risen to power because of the fear the common wizard had for muggles, but the situation had grown worse in just a few short decades. Should he continue on with his original plans for world domination, or should he change his goals in light of this new state of affairs? He honestly didn't know.

* * *

Despite his inner turmoil, life at Number Four also had its lighter moments. His ongoing attempt to write left-handed lead one of his teachers to suggest guitar lessons. In his younger days Voldemort had attended a Beatles concert, and the spectacle had left a vivid impression on him. The raw emotional power those four muggle musicians had been able to harness simply by playing bad music was impressive—even to a wizard.

Voldemort enjoyed these lessons so much that he bought a guitar for himself and a bass for Harry. His brother had wanted a set of drums, but Aunt Petunia quickly vetoed that idea. He wholeheartedly agreed. Drummers were common, but a talented bass player was hard to find.

It turned out that Harry had a respectable singing voice, and after they mastered the Beatles' many songs he fell in love with the Beach Boys. Voldemort agreed that their music had a certain melodic beauty to it, but it was a little bizarre to be singing _California Girls_ while living in Surrey. He much preferred the United Kingdoms' own Led Zeppelin. He was very proud of the fact that he had mastered the solo from _Stairway to Heaven_ until he discovered that every other guitarist in the United Kingdom had done the same.

Being a true Englishmen, Harry found that books and music were not enough to satisfy his soul. No, he had to play football as well. Voldemort had no interest in sports, but participating in the game did improve Harry's reflexes and dodging ability, so he went along with it. While Harry was a striker, Vito Potter chose to be a goalkeeper and whenever possible used his Legilimency to cheat. It was good practice tying to anticipate the other players by reading their feeble minds.

In addition to football, the two Potter brothers also joined a swimming club. Voldemort had never learned to swim, and one of the reasons he had placed a Horcrux in that sea-side cave was because his intense fear of the ocean. He was determined to crush this weakness of his once and for all. Swimming became the one area where Harry was his obvious superior.

There was one other activity they signed-up for along with their Aunt Petunia: yoga. Harry was less enthusiastic about these classes until Voldemort taught how to connect to his magic using meditation instead of a wand. As always the Dark Lord was searching for Harry's special **Power**, but once again he failed to discover anything unusual.

Thanks to yoga Aunt Petunia slowly began to get back into shape. The death of her son and husband had left her severely depressed, a fact which annoyed Voldemort to no end. In a effort to get her out of the house, he suggested that she look for a job. That didn't go over well, so he went with the backup plan of finding her a new and docile husband.

Petunia might not have been a great beauty like her sister Lily, but she wasn't ugly either. Yoga—combined with some new clothes and an endless stream of compliments from her two nephews—gave her enough confidence to begin dating again. Voldemort quickly shot down several admirers who were interested in her for the wrong reasons, or were too headstrong for his taste. Finally he found a fairly wealthy older gentleman who was madly in love with Petunia for some reason.

Voldemort was sick of spending his own money supporting the family. Now his trust fund was no longer needed, since Jim Cortland owned a successful landscaping firm. The fool was more than happy to take care of his new wife, and he even suggested moving them all to a nicer neighborhood. Petunia managed to talk him out of it. Even Voldemort wasn't sure what would happen to the blood wards if they tried to move. As a compromise Mr Cortland bought the house next store, and Petunia moved in with him.

So for the last three years before Hogwarts Voldemort and Harry had Number Four all to themselves. They ate breakfast and dinner with their Aunt and new Uncle every day, but at night they were left alone. Petunia didn't seem to care. As she pointed out, they were far more capable of protecting themselves than she was.

Strangely enough it was during this period that the strength of the blood wards actually increased. Voldemort wasn't really happy during those last three years, but he wasn't unhappy either. And compared to his first childhood in the orphanage that was a major improvement.

* * *

"Vito, are you sure our Hogwarts letters will come today?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Today is our eleventh birthday."

At least that is what Voldemort hoped. He had performed several rituals to determine his new body's exact age, and they all agreed he was born on the same day as Harry. But he still wasn't sure if the Book used by the staff at Hogwarts would concur. Then he felt an attack on the blood wards—wards which he had taken personal control of last year. He had a few more surprises waiting for Dumbledore if their upcoming confrontation went pear-shaped.

"Someone is at the edge of the wards. Come on Harry, let's go have ourselves a look."

Waiting for them at the empty playground near the house were Alastor Moody, Minerva McGonagall, and Dumbledore himself. The fact that the wards had stopped them meant they were not thrilled about the existence of two Potter brothers. Voldemort briefly wondered if the old wanker had the nerve to kill an innocent child like Vito Potter. No, he would have Mad-Eye Moody do it for him.

"Who are you!" Dumbledore shouted the moment he saw the extra Potter.

"Don't talk to my brother that way!" Harry shouted right back.

Voldemort would have been touched by his brother's loyalty... if he hadn't spent the last few years programming it into him.

"What do you mean, your brother?"

Minerva McGonagall had always been such a stupid cow. To think that she was now the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts itself. What was the world coming to? Voldemort placed a restraining hand on Harry's shoulder, and then turned towards Dumbledore.

"My name is Vito Potter, and I am Harry's brother."

"That is impossible. James and Lily Potter had only one son," McGonagall hissed.

"That is true, but Lily Potter was not my mother. James had an affair with my mother—an American woman named Gina Bianchini. When she died five years ago I came to live with Harry," Vito explained.

"How dare you insult James like that you little..."

That was a far as Minerva McGonagall got before Harry hit her with an overpowered stunner. The spell sent the witch flying for ten meters.

"Don't talk to my brother that way," Harry told the two remaining wizards in an icy tone.

"You will both come with us now."

Was it any wonder that Dumbledore had almost lost the war if bluffing two eleven year-old boys was the best plan he could come-up on the fly.

"We aren't going anywhere with you," Voldemort replied "I don't know where these special wards came from, but I do know that they protect us from anyone who wants to hurt us. If they are keeping you out you must want to hurt us. Isn't that right Harry?"

"It sure is, Vito."

Dumbledore tried again: "I am afraid you must come with us."

"Are you deaf old man?" Harry taunted. While Voldemort's face was a perfect mask, in his mind he was dancing a jig. After today's fiasco Harry would never trust the Headmaster of Hogwarts.

"Do you have any proof of what you are saying boy?" Moody asked.

"I have my mother's word," Vito replied. "But if that isn't good enough for you I will submit to a blood test by the British Ministry of Magic. James Potter is my father. I know that for a fact."

"We will not involve the Ministry of Magic in this matter. Do I make myself perfectly clear?" Dumbledore said in the harshest tone Voldemort had ever hear from him.

"You're too late Albus. They are already here," Moody said as two dozen Aurors lead by Amelia Bones herself appeared all around the empty playground.

It was a good thing that Voldemort had sent a self-destruct signal to the rune stone he had placed next to the Ministry's tracking system. Not only had he just erased any incriminating evidence, but he had also alerted the Aurors that Harry Potter was in great danger. Checkmate Dumbledore.

"What in the name of Merlin is going on here?" Bones demanded.

* * *

The Ministry of Magic was a circus that day. When Dumbledore refused to answer any of Bone's questions, she responded by called for reinforcements and arrested Mad-Eye Moody on a charge of treason. She then passed right through the blood wards and asked the Potter brothers if they would accompany her back to the Ministry to clear up this mess. She also rounded up Aunt Petunia and Arabella Figg, so they could also provide legal testimony.

Minister Fudge was waiting to greet them when their party arrived in London. He had probably been informed about the situation by his moles in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Rita Skeeter was also there... thanks to a tip Voldemort had sent her earlier in the day. They all went strait to the room where the blood records were kept, and again the test came back as Potter/unknown. Voldemort had Gina Bianchini's body cremated five years ago, so he wasn't worried about any more incriminating blood tests at this point.

"As you all can see, I am James Potter's son."

Rita Skeeter already had a great story. Now she just needed some art to go with it. "You wouldn't by any chance have a picture of your dear mother, would you?"

"Yes, I do," Voldemort replied as he handed the reporter a wallet-sized photo. "You can borrow this, so long as I get it back by the end of the day."

Gina Bianchini had been a very beautiful women, and when that picture ran in the _Daily Prophet_ tomorrow morning everyone would understand why James Potter had committed adultery. They would still denounce him in public, but they would understand.

Dumbledore could see everything spinning out of control, and for a moment he lost control of his temper. "Why wasn't I informed about this Arabella?"

By now the poor squib was crying. "I told you that Vernon Dursley was abusing his wife and little Harry, but you did nothing. When the brute passed away it was the best thing that could have happened. Harry has never been happier since his brother moved in, and I knew if I told you about Vito you would just take him away!"

Bones was fascinated by this heartfelt speech. "So Dumbledore, it's clear to me that you broke your oath to the Wizengamot. You swore that Harry Potter would be safe. In truth you only had one squib watching over him. And then there is the matter of those illegal blood wards surrounding Little Whinging."

Dumbledore was a politician to the core, and he knew this battle was lost. "Amelia, those wards may be illegal, but they also necessary. I am just glad they protected not only Harry but his brother as well. I meant young Vito no harm."

"You're a liar!" Harry yelled. "The ward kept you out because you wanted to hurt me and my brother! That's it, we're going to school in the United States. The Salem Institute has already sent us both acceptance letters."

Voldemort just winked at Rita Skeeter, who was taking notes at a furious pace. Dumbledore managed to talk his way out of any criminal charges, but the damage was done. The Headmaster had to issue Vito Potter a public apology, and take an Unbreakable Vow that no one would prevent him from attending Hogwarts with his brother Harry.

Fudge also granted the Potter brothers the right to use magic outside of Hogwarts despite being under-aged, and he threw in an official Floo permit. The Boy-Who-Lived wasn't going to be leaving for the colonies while Cornelius Fudge was serving as the Minister of Magic. No siree Bob.

* * *

Later that night Harry and Vito served a freshly cooked dinner to Amelia Bones, her niece Susan, and Susan's best friend Hannah Abbott at Number Four. The Director of the DMLE had been outraged when Aunt Petunia informed her that the two boys lived alone in this house, and she insisted on a personal inspection. No doubt she expecting a pigsty, but Harry and Vito kept the place spotless. They used illegal magic to do it, but the witch didn't need to know that. When Bones was done with her inspection the two brothers invited her and her niece Susan to dinner. Hannah Abbott just sort of tagged along.

"Do either of you have any idea which house at Hogwarts you want to be sorted into?" Bones asked as they ate a desert of homemade chocolate truffles.

"Hufflepuff," Harry said at once.

"Really? I would have thought you would want to be in Gryffindor like your father."

"No, we believe in hard work and loyalty. Gryffindor is for show-offs," Voldemort told the older witch. His main priority was to keep them out of Slytherin. Too many people are already going to be asking questions about Vito Potter, and being in Hufflepuff would help lower his public profile.

"I see you both have your wands, but I know for a fact you haven't been seen in Diagon Alley," Bones remarked.

"We bought them in New York City a few years ago," Harry politely explained. For some unknown reason the two girls started giggling when they heard this bit of information.

"You also have your books, your potion supplies, and two fine telescopes. Is there anything you need before you start Hogwarts?"

"We have to buy our school robes and maybe an owl," Harry answered. Again the girls giggled.

"Maybe we can arrange a trip to the Alley later in the week," Bones suggested. "Susan and Hannah would be glad to show you around, and it would give you both a chance to meet some of the other students your own age_._ I will be glad to assign some Aurors to act as your bodyguards for the day."

"That won't be necessary, will it?" Voldemort asked in what he hoped was a boyish voice.

"I'm afraid that it is. You are going to be just a famous as your brother by the time Rita Skeeter is done with you. I saw two guitars upstairs. Do you both play?"

"I play the bass. Vito plays the guitar," Harry explained. "Would you like to hear a song?"

"Yes!" Susan and Hannah squealed.

By the time Harry finished singing _Let it Be, _Voldemort finally figured out what was going-on. The two girls were in love with the Potter brothers, and Bones was already planning her niece's wedding. Sweet Merlin. Life had been so much easier after all those dark rituals transformed him into a hideous monster. Now he had to deal with love-sick teenage girls again. If these two idiots only knew what happened to Moaning Myrtle.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note**: I posted this story a few years ago under my old pen name, but later deleted it. Now I'm posting it again.

* * *

Later that week Harry Potter made his first trip to Diagon Alley. Voldemort had told his brother all about the many exotic shops and attractions, but the boy was still excited to see them with his own eyes. This trip had postponed for several years to avoid a confrontation with Dumbledore, but now the cat was out of the bag. The Potter brothers also had to make a withdrawal from Gringotts, but that would have to wait until the end of the day. For now Voldemort had enough galleons left to pay for any school supplies they might need.

At the Leaky Cauldron they were joined by Susan and Hannah—and their Auror bodyguards who kept the curious away. Voldemort was a bit peeved that the two witches seemed more interested in Harry, but the boy did have a more pleasant personality. He tried not to let this irritation show as they searched the Magical Menagerie for a familiar to take to Hogwarts. Voldemort longed for a proper snake, but that was out of the question.

"Vito, look!" Harry shouted as he pointed to a large tortoise that Susan and Hannah were fussing over. It had a spectacular bejeweled shell that reflected a rainbow of light all over the shop. "I found my new familiar. Isn't he great?"

"Harry, that is a fire crab. Do you know why they call them fire crabs? Because they shoot massive jets of fire out of their arses."

"I know! That's what makes him so great. We are going to call him Gamera, and he will be the best familiar ever!"

Voldemort thought about it for a moment. He had always wanted a fire crab shell to use as a cauldron for certain specialized potions. He would let Harry buy it, and later on the poor thing would have a tragic accident. "Fine, if that's want you really want. However **you** will put out any fires he accidentally starts. We will pay for... Gamera now, and pick him up right before we leave for home. We are not carrying a fire crab around Diagon Alley all day."

Next the Potters brothers and their little entourage made their way to Madam Malkin's to buy their Hogwarts robes. Again the two witches focused their attention on Harry, and again it annoyed Voldemort. Fortunately he more important things on his mind.

When he had first acquired this new body, Voldemort found that everything he ate and drank tasted delicious. At the time he dismissed it as a consequence of spending five years as a shade, but his new love of dining hadn't faded with time. Now he was starting to notice females again, and the last time that he could remember that happening was with Bellatrix back in the seventies. And he had always been more attracted to her savage personality than to her admittedly fine body.

As he ran his hand over a length of smooth Acromantula silk, Voldemort found it impossible to ignore these observations any longer. He was beginning to believe there was nothing wrong with this new body. Instead it was his old one that had been defective. The process of creating multiple Horcruxes must have robbed his senses of their true power. The food he ate had been reduced to nothing more than fuel, his sexual desires had faded, and even the simple joy of touching silk had been taken away from him.

As a young man he had boldly dismissed the dangers of splitting his soul, but did he really want to return to that kind of barren and colorless existence? It was a question that could wait for now. First he had to regain all of his magical strength, and only then would he consider making—or not making—more Horcruxes.

After the left the dress shop with a full set of robes they said their good-byes to Susan and Hannah, who were off to buy their telescopes. The two wizards headed back to the Leaky Cauldron. Vito Potter had asked Amelia Bones for the names of several of the muggleborn students who would be entering Hogwarts this year. If the Head of the DMLE had known who she was really giving those names to she would have had a stoke. He selected three students, contacted them on the telephone, and asked them to attend this meeting. Aunt Petunia was waiting for them at one of the larger tables, and shortly after they sat down the others began to arrive.

"Hello, I am Richard Granger and this is my wife Beatrice. You have already spoken to our daughter Hermione."

Once Voldemort stopped staring at their daughter's deformed teeth he noticed that the Grangers were depressing middle-class. The clothes and shoes were acceptable, but a poor taste in accessories (in this case a pair of clunky digital watches) gave away their lack of social status. The same was true for Aunt Petunia, who had a weakness for gaudy jewelry.

"It is a pleasure to meet you all, I'm Ruth Thomas and this is my son Dean."

Judging by the beautiful woman's accent and brown skin color she must have been born somewhere in Equatorial Africa, and immigrated to the United Kingdom during her youth. Dean seemed pleasant enough, and he soon began chatting with Harry about football. Voldemort sometimes thought the bloody sport was one of the main reason behind the collapse of the British Empire.

"The name is Sebastian Finch-Fletchley, and this is my son Justin."

Now this fellow certainly had the right kind of watch. Everything he and his handsome son were wearing came straight from Savile Row. Sebastian was older and more self-confident than the other parents, and it was clear that even Justin was intimidated by his father's gruff manner. The muggle reminded Voldemort of himself.

After introduced Harry and Aunt Petunia, he got right down to business. "While Harry and I are happy to be attending Hogwarts this fall, we don't want to abandon our muggle... sorry, I didn't mean to use that word. We don't want to abandon our **regular** eduction. However if we want attend a good university after we graduate from Hogwarts we'll need to take our A-Level examinations. To that end we would like to start a school club for non-magical subjects. If we keep-up with our studies every week we should be ready for our A-Levels in a few years."

"I don't understand, aren't you going to be a full-time wizards after you graduate?" Beatrice Granger asked.

"As you can see the magical world is rather modest," Vito said as he glanced around at primitive-looking Leaky Cauldron. The pub looked like something out of the sixteenth century, a point which everyone was too polite to mention. "Good magical jobs can be hard to find."

"Are you are saying that Dean wouldn't be able to find a job as an artist with... your people?" Ruth Thomas asked carefully.

"There are less than thirty thousand wizards and witches in the United Kingdom, compared to well over sixty million regular people That means that there is a limited market for magical artists and their creations," Voldemort explained. "Nor do we have any established arts school for your son to attend. Dean would have to become an apprentice to a master, and apprenticeships are usually reserved for pureblood wizards."

The word "pureblood" landed like a invisible bomb in the middle of their table. The four parent began exchanging silent looks with each other, and Voldemort thought he could actually see the gears whirling around in their little minds. Yes, your children are going to be second-class citizens in the magical world they are about to enter. How does that make you feel? Angry perhaps?

Richard Granger jumped in first. "Are you telling us there are still aristocrats in the magical world?"

"I don't think there are any official titles, but there does seem to be an unofficial ranking system," Voldemort replied as he **tried** to sound like an eleven year-old. "Purebloods have two magical parents, although some rank higher depending on how far back your magical family tree goes. Next are the half-bloods like me, with one magical parent and one regular parent."

"And at the very bottom are those are wizards and witches with two normal parents?" asked Sebastian in a dangerous tone.

"Yes, they are called the muggleborn. According to everything Harry and I have read this ranking system isn't suppose to matter, but it does anyway. It's all very confusing."

Everyone started asking question at this point... especially the girl with the deformed teeth. Voldemort let Harry and Aunt Petunia take the lead. The social hierarchy in the magical world was a very complex subject, and soon they were all confused. Still, the main point was clear to the parents: purebloods were at the top of the heap, and the muggleborns—like their children—were at the bottom.

"Vito, I think this A-Level school club of yours is an excellent idea. Do you have any sort of schedule worked out?"

A touch of Legilimency told Voldemort that the rich muggle was only allowing his son to attend Hogwarts because he was afraid the boy might accidentally kill someone with his magic. Justin was going to Cambridge whether he liked it or not, and he was going to join the family's merchant bank whether he liked it or not. His son hadn't even left for Hogwarts yet, but Sebastian Finch-Fletchley already hated the magical world. The other three parents weren't as openly hostile, but they were all deeply disturbed by this new information.

"Yes, I do have a schedule right here. It's a bit on the rough side, so perhaps you could look it over. Any suggestions you have would be very helpful."

Voldemort handed out several notebooks which contained a weekly outline of the topics they would be studying. The girl with the deformed teeth grabbed one, and began reading it right there at the table. Everyone agreed that they would discuss Vito's idea at home, and then get back to him in a few days.

"What was that all about?" Aunt Petunia asked after the others had left.

"I thought my proposal was very straightforward. You should go get the car now. Harry and I will be ready to leave in about twenty minutes."

The look on her face made it clear that Aunt Petunia didn't believe him. Of all the people who knew Vito Potter, only she had any real idea of what he was like under his polished facade. She was right to assume that he had an ulterior motive for his little muggle-born school club. But then a good Dark Lord has several ulterior motives for every action he takes.

* * *

"Hello, my name is Harry Potter. I think I have a Vault here at Gringotts, but I don't have my..."

"You either have a Vault or you don't," the filthy little beast snarled.

Back during the war the goblins had sold a great deal of financial information about Voldemort's enemies to Lucius Malfoy, and if that was all they had done he would have had no problem banking with them. But than the foul creatures turned around and sold information about the Death Eaters to the Ministry of Magic as well. They played both sides against each other in hopes of prolong the war, and maximizing the number of wizards and witches killed. When the time came he had every intention of exterminating the entire Goblin Nation, but for now his plans would have to wait.

"He is asking because his parents are dead," Voldemort snapped. "Now could you please tell my brother if the Potter family has any Vaults here at Gringotts, and if so who was the keys to those Vaults."

The goblin snarled some more before consulting his ledger books. "Harry Potter is the owner of one Vault here at Gringotts: number six-hundred and eighty-seven. The key is in the possession of Albus Dumbledore. I trust you've heard of him."

Harry looked like he was going to throw a temper tantrum that might get them both killed, so again Voldemort stepped-in.

"Gringotts knew that my brother's key had been stolen by another wizard, yet you did nothing to rectify the situation. That means your bank is in violation of its contract, and even without his key my brother can demand access to his Vault."

"Are you calling Albus Dumbledore a thief?" the goblin asked.

"Yes, I am calling him a thief. My brother would like access to his Vault. Right now."

The goblin gave them a wicked smile. "I can see that you're a bold one. Very well, follow me."

Harry loved the bloody mining carts, but that was no surprise to Voldemort. Once they reached his Vault they slammed the door right in the goblin's face. Both brothers immediately began emptying their pockets. They had brought along twenty Mokeskin pouches, which should be enough to carry everything.

"Harry, levitate the galleons just like I showed you, and stop when the pouches start looking full. Remember, just the gold galleons. Leave the sickles and knuts for now. I will check and see if there is anything else hidden from view."

Slowly Voldemort ran his hands over the floor and the walls of the Vault. During his rise to power he had personal killed Harry's paternal grandparents, and then allowed his Death Eaters to raze the old Potter Manor. If James had been able to salvage any family heirlooms they should be somewhere in here. Finally Voldemort found a magical locking mechanism; the charm work was of the highest caliber. Who had put this false wall here? James and Lily, or Dumbledore? It didn't really matter. Voldemort picked up bronze knut, and transfigured it into an onion.

"Come here, and rub this just beneath your eyes."

"No way!"

"Harry, there are personal things from the Potter family hidden back there, and only your tears will open this wall."

"I hate the smell of onions. You do it."

"Lily Potter wasn't my mum, so I can't do it. Only your tears will work."

In truth Voldemort wasn't sure about that, but he didn't feel like taking any unnecessary chances this far beneath Gringotts. He didn't know how the goblins were going to react to the sight of Harry's empty Vault, and he didn't want to find out. At least not today.

"Fine." After his eyes began to water Harry touched the back wall of the Vault with one of his tears. Slowly it began to liquify, revealing a secret enclosure. "Wow, look at all this stuff."

They had indeed hit the jackpot. There were several chests holding who-knows-what, a pile of wands, about a hundred old books, and most surprisingly a portrait of Lily Potter in her wedding dress. She was just as beautiful as Voldemort remembered. Thankfully there was no matching portrait of James Potter in his wedding robes. That would have caused a number of serious problems.

"We're taking all of this stuff."

When they filled the last Mokeskin pouch only a small pile of bronze knuts was left behind on the Vault floor. That was good enough. Voldemort had no idea when he was going to be able to steal the Horcrux being kept in the Lestrange Vault, but after he did the goblins wouldn't have any leverage over Harry. As an added bonus Dumbledore no longer have any control over their financial future. Instead their galleons would be kept safely behind the blood wards at Number Four. Voldemort had constructed a sub-basement in his spare time, complete with its own heavily-warded vault.

"Are you sure that all the bags tightly secured under your robes?"

"Yes, Vito. We practiced this whole scam dozens of times. I know what I suppose to do."

"You know little brother, you just might have a future career as a bank robber."

To Voldemort's surprise they made it out of Gringotts without any difficulties, and Harry picked up Gamera as they were leaving Diagon Ally. Aunt Petunia was not amused when she saw her nephew's new familiar. She was even less amused when one of the fire crab's farts started a small fire in the back of her brand-new Range Rover. On the other hand Harry thought it was hilarious. Little boys just love their fart jokes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note**: I posted this story a few years ago under my old pen name, but later deleted it. Now I'm posting it again.

* * *

"Are you sure you have everything packed?" Voldemort asked his brother as they placed their school trunks by the front door. "Once we're on the Hogwarts Express tomorrow you wouldn't be able to come back here until the winter holidays."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes, for the tenth time I have everything packed. Will you **please** stop nagging me."

Voldemort was about to unleashed a nasty retort when their fireplace suddenly filled with green flames. "Wands out!" He knew that only one witch had access to their Floo—and only for sending messages—but it was still good practice for the boy.

"Hello Harry, hello Vito. May I come through with a friend?" the burning face of Amelia Bones asked. "We have some very important news to share with you."

"Of course, Director Bones," Voldemort replied. "But if I may ask, who is this friend of yours?"

"His name is Remus Lupin. He went to Hogwarts with your father James. They were close friends."

"Is he the werewolf Lily keeps talking about?" Harry asked.

_Only Harry Potter would be excited about meeting a bloody werewolf_, Voldemort thought to himself. _Maybe his bloody __**Power **__is being a reckless idiot_.

Bones looked concerned, "Who exactly is Lily?"

"It would just be easier to explain it to you in person," Voldemort told her as he moved Gamera out of the fireplace, and deactivated the rune cluster which prevented anyone from using the Floo to physically enter Number Four.

After Bones exiting the Floo, she glanced at their trunks waiting by the door. "I see you're both ready for the Hogwarts Express. Susan only began packing this morning."

The witch was soon followed by a middle-aged wizard wearing a set of threadbare robes. Voldemort knew the werewolf's true age, and it was evident from his dreadful appearance that he had lead a harsh life since the war ended.

"Hello, my name is Remus Lupin. You must be Harry and Vito," Lupin said in a shaky voice. "You both look so much like your father James, but Harry has..."

"Harry has my eyes," said the portrait hanging just above the fireplace.

"Lily?"

"Hello Remus, you look like shit. I was ready to lay into you for abandoning my son, but I see that you barely take care of yourself. Bloody Ministry of Magic and their asinine werewolf laws."

The beautiful bride in the portrait then turned to Bones. "And you! My son does what your incompetent Aurors could not: he defeats an actual Dark Lord. And what is his reward? To be left in his god-forsaken house where he was beaten and starved by my brother-in-law. Go look at the cupboard under the stairs where Vernon kept the precious Boy-Who-Lived. Go!"

When Bones and Lupin came back down the hallway they both looked mortified. Lupin was even crying. "I swear on my soul, I had no idea about any of this. Dumbledore said..."

"Don't mention that pervert's name in my presence again. Harry go get the will."

"There has never been any real evidence about... the Headmaster's past," Bones whispered. "It's all just baseless gossip."

"Don't give me that bullshit Amelia," Lily snapped. "Tell her Vito."

Voldemort was always happy to slander his great adversary. "In the United States it's well known that Dumbledore had a torrid and protracted love affair with the Dark Lord Grindelwald."

"And he wears those atrocious robes, and he has been a teacher at a boarding school for decades. I always wonder how James got to be Head Boy, and now I know. Dumbledore must have bent that cheating blighter over his desk and..."

"Lily, that's enough!" Lupin yelled. Both he and Bones were looking over at young Vito Potter, plainly concerned about the boy's reaction to this scandalous conversation.

"Don't you dare defend that bastard Remus, don't you dare!" the portrait yelled right back. "And stop looking at Vito. He is the only person in the world who actually cares about Harry, and for that I will always love him. I don't know what would have happened if he hadn't shown up, and saved my son from the unholy mess you all left him in. Show these two the will."

Harry had returned and gave Lupin an official-looking sheet of parchment.

"Read the damn thing, and then tell me what you think about your precious Headmaster. It clearly states that Harry was to be left with his godfather Sirius or his godmother Alice. Not with my bitch of a sister."

Since Vito Potter had no reasonable way of know what became of either Sirius Black or Alice Longbottom, Voldemort had neglected to share their disastrous fates with Lily's portrait. He was curious as to how Bones and Lupin were going to explain the situation.

"Lily, Sirius betrayed you and James to You-Know-Who. He then killed Peter and was sent to Azkaban," Lupin told her.

The portrait pondered these new facts for a moment. "I don't have any trouble believing that. Black tried using you to kill Severus during a full moon, and that makes him just the kind of amoral scumbag the Dark Lord was always trying to recruit. You are hiding something. What aren't you telling me?"

"Last night Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban," Bones explained. "Minister Fudge visited the prison earlier in the week, and showed Black a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ with Vito Potter's picture on the front page. For some reason he became enraged, and vowed to kill Vito before he could hurt his brother Harry. None of that makes any sense, but ten years in Azkaban would be enough to drive any wizard or witch insane."

During this whole conversation Voldemort barely managed to keep a straight face. The whole situation with Sirius Black was hilarious. He had made the brilliant choice when he recruited Peter Pettigrew to act as his spy within the Order of the Phoenix. Not only did the clever little rat sell-out the Potter's true location, he also managed to fame an innocent man **and** fake his death at the same time. (For some reason Voldemort was sure Pettigrew was still alive.) Given Black's close relationship with James Potter he must believe that "Vito Potter" is an imposter... hence the death threats. That could be a problem later on.

"What about Alice?" Lily asked.

"The Lestranges attacked the Longbottoms a few weeks after the war ended. Bellatrix used the Cruciatus Curse on them until they both went insane. Frank and Alice have been at St Mungo's Hospital ever since that terrible night. They can't even recognize poor Neville, so caring for Harry was out of the question," Lupin explained.

"This is so completely fucked-up. I assume that you'll have Aurors escorting Harry and Vito to King's Cross Station tomorrow? What happens when they reach Hogwarts? It is clear to **me** that Dumbledore can't be trusted to protect them."

"You're right, I don't trust the old man either," Bones answered, more for the benefit of Harry than the portrait of his mother.

The witch seemed very eager to stay on the good side of the Boy-Who-Lived. Voldemort had no doubt she was hoping to become the next Minster of Magic, and the endorsement of the great Harry Potter would certainly help her achieve that goal. Bones' ambition made her Voldemort's most dependable and powerful ally at the moment.

"The Aurors will be here at six o'clock with a Ministry car. Remus also volunteered to stay with the boys tonight. He has been appointed as the new History of Magic Professor at Hogwarts, so he will also be riding on the Express tomorrow if they need his help."

"Congratulations on your new job," Harry offered.

"What happened to Professor Binns?" Lily asked.

"The Headmaster hired Alastor Moody to teach DADA, so I insisted that Remus be hired as well," Bones explained. "We have a necromancer arriving today from the Continent to banish Professor Binns. She will be getting rid of Peeves as well, something which should have been done ages ago."

In Voldemort's opinion the Director of DMLE was playing a interesting game. It was well know that Mad-Eye Moody was one of Dumbledore's chief enforcers, and Bones believed the old Auror might attack Vito Potter. It would be made to look like an accident of course, but Dumbledore clearly wanted the other Potter brother out of the picture. But why?

"Are you sure you don't mind me spending the night here?"

"No, of course not," Harry assured him. "We want to hear what it's like being a werewolf."

Lupin shot the Lily a dirty look, but she just shrugged. "I told Harry and Vito about the Marauders, and that includes all of your stupid little secrets. They found the version of the Map that I made during our seventh year, but James' Invisibility Cloak is missing. Do you have any idea where it might be?"

Bones smiled when she heard Lily's demands. "It seems as if you have a lot to catching-up to do, so I will leave you to it. Remember, the car will be here at six o'clock." With that she stepped into the Floo, leaving a very nervous-looking werewolf to deal with the two young wizards and one angry portrait.

Lily's tirade last for another hour. By the time she was done with him, Remus Lupin was thoroughly house-broken. It would be useful to have another ally attending Dumbledore's staff meetings.

"Can you drive a car?" Voldemort finally asked the poor wizard.

"It has been a while. But yes, I can drive a car."

"Good, because we're going to Diagon Ally to buy you some new robes." he explained. The stick was good, but the stick and the carrot was better. And right now Lupin definately needed a carrot.

"Vito, that isn't necessary..."

Voldemort cut him off. "Yes, it is. How are your students supposed to accept your authority if you are dressed like a vagabond?"

"Don't try and argue with him," Harry told the werewolf as he went to the closet to get their coats. "Vito never loses."

* * *

The Ministry car did show-up at six o'clock the next morning, so Harry and Voldemort were the first students to board the Hogwarts Express that year. Slowly other families began to arrive at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. The view out of the train window reminded Voldemort of Tom Riddle's first trip to King's Cross Station all those years ago. The only real changes he noticed were the clothes the muggles were wearing. Stagnation was the order of the day in their small magical world.

Off to the side of the crowd Theodore Nott and Lucius Malfoy were having a little chat. They had swore to serve their Dark Lord, yet both wizards abandoned their oaths only days after he lost his body. Voldemort planned on torturing at length; they would beg for death before he was done with them. But like so many things, his revenge would have to wait.

Once Voldemort had reabsorbed the Ravenclaw Diadem Horcrux, he planned on capturing Sirius Black. If anyone knew where Regulus might have hidden the Locket Horcrux, it would be his idealistic brother. His scheming was put on hold though when Susan and Hannah barged into their compartment.

"Hi Harry. Hi Vito. Can we sit here?" the two witches asked. Over the next few minutes Voldemort made an effort to be nice. After all, he couldn't afford to alienate Susan's aunt. Just before the train pulled out of King's Cross Station they were joined by the muggle-born girl with the deformed teeth.

"I would just like to thank you both," Granger said after a round-robin of introductions. "My parents were much happier about my attendance at Hogwarts now that they know I will be keeping up with my regular studies."

"What other studies are you talking about?" Susan asked.

"Well, Vito came-up an idea to..."

"Shut-up and hold still. Don't move a single centimeter," Voldemort told Granger as he took-out his powerful wand, and pointed it at directly her face. He then carefully reduced the size of her two front teeth. "There, that's much better. You may continue."

Granger reached up and felt her two incisors, which were now the proper size. Then she started crying. Loudly.

"Harry, you deal with her. I'm going to stretch my legs."

As he walked down the train corridor, Voldemort wondered if he could pull this performance off. Dealing with Harry on an individual basis wasn't too difficult, but having to interact with an entire castle full of children was going to be much more of a trial. Case in point: here was yet another crying first-year.

"What's your name, and what's wrong with you?" To Voldemort's ears that sounded like something a normal wizard would ask.

"My name is Neville Longbottom. These two red-headed twins back there have my toad Trevor. They told me they're going to cut him up, and use him as potion ingredients."

_And who should I run into but the other child of prophecy_, Voldemort thought. Was this some sort of sign? "Go sit in that compartment with my brother Harry Potter. I'll get your toad, and be back in a few minutes."

He quickly found pair who had taken the toad, as red-headed twins were rather scarce. There were four other students in their compartment, and none of whom looked to be first-years. But what did Voldemort care? They were still just students. "Are you the gingers who stole Neville Longbottom's toad?"

"Go away little boy," one of twins sneered.

That earned the ginger a Stinging Hex right in the testicles. He immediately fell over and vomited on the floor of the train. The others pointed their wands at him, but Voldemort knew from long experience that they had no intention of retaliating. In fact, they were already terrified of him. Preemptive strikes had a way of doing that.

"Give me the toad. Now."

One of the witches quickly produced Trevor.

"This isn't over," the other ginger twin said as he helped his brother up off the floor.

Voldemort smiled as he turned to leave. "You're right. It's not."

Waiting outside of the compartment was a sixth or seventh year witch who had seen the whole confrontation. She had short pink hair—and an amazing body. Voldemort hated the muggles, but he did admire their blue jeans. They looked so much better on a witch than robes.

"You are lucky I'm not a prefect Vito Potter, or you would be serving detention with Professor Snape until Christmas. But don't think you are going to get away with it. Those two were the Weasley twins, who just happen to be the biggest practical jokers at Hogwarts. Trust me, they're going to make your life miserable this year."

"Trust **me**, those two are nothing but cowards. You look familiar. Do I know you?" It seemed unlikely that he would have forgotten that pink hair. Or that body.

"No, we've never met. Although we are sort of related. Your grandmother was a member of the Black family, just like my mum. I'm Tonks by the way."

"Nymphadora Tonks, the Metamorphmagus. I've heard of you."

"Don't use that stupid name again, or I **will** curse you. And how in the name of Merlin did you know that I was a Metamorphmagus?"

This was turning out to be a bizarre trip. First it was the Longbottom boy, and now he runs into Bellatrix's only niece. More than once his dear Bella had begged for permission to execute little Nymphadora and her muggle-born father. Voldemort had only stopped her because Narcissa Malfoy had been willing to spy on Lucius in order to insure the survival of her sister Andromeda's family. The vicious fights between the Black sisters had been an endless source of amusement during the war. Of course Voldemort couldn't tell Nymphadora about any of this, so he just ignored her question. Luckily being rude came naturally to him.

"What does your base form look like?"

"That is something you should never ask a Metamorphmagus. I'm not going to show you my base form, so don't ask again. Now where is your brother? I want to say hello."

"Follow me... Nymphadora."

When they reached Harry's compartment Voldemort was relieved to see that both Granger and Longbottom had stopped crying. Unfortunately the Malfoy heir had decided to pay a visit, and was acting like a pureblood wanker. He didn't want his brother to get into a fight, so he discretely cursed Lucius's spawn.

Malfoy's bladder started to empty, and Hannah started to scream: "Look, he's peeing in his pants! That's so disgusting!"

Even his two lackeys were laughing as the little Malfoy ran away smelling of urine.

"How did you do that?" Tonks asked as he put away his wand. Voldemort grimaced. He had been showing-off without even realizing it. It was a stupid mistake on his part.

"It's a secret American curse." He then quickly turned to Harry and the others. "Longbottom, here is your toad. Everyone this is Nymphadora Tonks, the Metamorphmagus. She is a distant cousin of ours."

The train ride was much more pleasant after **Tonks** sat down, and showed them how she could alter her physical appearance. She was very amusing, and could even get someone as shy as Longbottom to come out of his shell. Voldemort wondered why a seventh-year was sitting with a group of first-years, even if that group did included the famous Boy-Who-Lived. Than it struck him: she was here to protect his brother. Voldemort thought it must have been Amelia Bones' idea. A sort of junior bodyguard unofficial assigned to look after Harry Potter while he was at Hogwarts.

"Are you planning on becoming an Auror after you graduate?"

"How could you possible know that?" an annoyed Tonks asked. "Harry, is Vito a seer or something?"

"No, he's not a seer. He's just a genius."

Granger raised her hand. "What is an Auror?"

"Is like a magical police officer," Tonks replied. She than spent the rest of the trip telling the gullible first-years how exciting it was to work as an Auror. You know, catching Dark Wizards and all that nonsense.

_If the poor witch only knew the truth_, Voldemort mused. But he found himself listening to her stories just the same.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note**: I posted this story a few years ago under my old pen name, but later deleted it. Now I'm posting it again.

* * *

Thinking the phase _**Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four**_ in Parseltongue was a bit more difficult than Voldemort remembered. Then again he hadn't entered Hogwarts since that night when he applied to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. It felt good to be back home. He quickly glanced up at the Enchanted Ceiling of the Great Hall and saw the counter-signal: the North Star blinked four times.

It was a dirty little secret of Hogwarts that the Sorting Hat did not actually sort the first-year students. The Hat was indeed a powerful and semi-sentient magical artifact, but for the most part the sorting was done by the Enchanted Ceiling. If students were sorted on an individual basis it would be impossible to balance out the four houses. In certain years you might have ended-up with ten boys in Gryffindor or ten girls in Slytherin. Or no one at all in Hufflepuff.

No, the students had to be sorted all at once, and only the Enchanted Ceiling itself processed that kind of ability. After all, it constantly read the minds of the students—seeing who wanted chicken or fish each night, and then passed that information down to the house-elves in the kitchen. This process kept a secret because the Headmasters knew parents would be horrified to learn that such an important decision in their children's lives was being given the same amount of consideration as which vegetables to serve for dinner.

By sending the ancient phase to the Enchanted Ceiling, Voldemort could now listen in on the conversations the Sorting Hat had with each of the first years. He could in no way control the sorting, but the information he overheard would be useful. This little backdoor came from one of Salazar Slytherin's private journals, which he had found down in the Chamber of Secrets. It also hid him from the spying portraits of Hogwarts—but again it didn't grant him any control over the portraits. Still, the Parseltongue backdoor was a useful tool, and Voldemort could understand why Salazar had incorporated it directly into Hogwarts while the school was under construction.

The sorting started the second the students walked into the Great Hall. Justin Finch-Fletchley caused the first real problem of the night. He had a slight crush on the Boy-Who-Lived, which made it difficult to sort him. Even worse was the fact that Granger had a crush on **him**. Despite the incident with her teeth, the girl had no interest in Ravenclaw or Gryffindor. She wanted to join the Potter brothers in Hufflepuff, much to his dismay.

The Enchanted Ceiling took a moment to reconfigure the composition of the their class, and pushed Daphne Greengrass out of Slytherin into Gryffindor. Poor Greengrass wasn't as assertive as the muggle-born witch, so her life was just ruined because of a minor schoolgirl crush. Voldemort himself couldn't think of worst fate than becoming a lion. The Longbottom boy was actually excited about joining Hufflepuff, so Ernie Macmillan went to Gryffindor along with Greengrass.

The sorting of the little Malfoy brought a smile to Voldemort's face. The boy was too self-centered for Hufflepuff, too cowardly for Gryffindor, and too intellectually lazy for Ravenclaw. Yes, Draco was definitely Lucius' son.

Voldemort was rather proud that Harry's mental shields made his sorting a challenge—all that time studying yoga had paid off. However his brother's overwhelming sense of loyalty finally bleed through his shields and won him a place in Hufflepuff, much to that house's delight. To be honest the Hufflepuff table went completely bananas when the Sorting Hat announced the decision, and they celebrated for several minutes as the other houses looked on with a combination of shock and horror.

While the Great Hall slowly came to terms with the fact that the Boy-Who-Lived was now in the "House of the Stupid and the Squib" Voldemort was studying the High Table. Mad-Eye Moody wasn't even bothering to hide his hostility, while Dumbledore's face was a complete blank. For the Headmaster that was a clear sign of anger. There was no doubt in his mind that both wizards saw Vito Potter as a threat to the prophecy, but he wasn't sure how far they were willing to go. Having to kill one or both of them this early in the game would be a serious hindrance to his long-term plans.

"Vito Potter!" That cow McGonagall was shooting him a look of pure disdain, but she was of no importance. She never had been.

The Hat—or rather the Hat **and** the Enchanted Ceiling—tried speaking to him mentally. "I thought your brother had strong shields, but I can sense absolutely nothing from you."

_Of course you can't, you stupid piece of cloth. I am the most brilliant wizard in the world, and even in this weaken state I can easily keep you out_, Voldemort muttered behind his mental shields. Finally he spoke out loud: "Put me in Hufflepuff."

"As you wish... Hufflepuff!"

His sorting sent Zacharias Smith to Gryffindor, but that was the last adjustment of the night. When he reached the Hufflepuff table Harry just had to stand-up and give him a hug. So did Granger; he seriously considered cursing her for her impudence. Tonks gave him a third and final hug, but for some reason he didn't mind that one.

"I can't believe it! We got the Boy-Who-Lived, his brother, and the niece of Director Bones. Hufflepuff wasn't had a class like this in centuries," she told him in an excited voice, and Voldemort couldn't help but admire the rosy glow on her cheeks.

* * *

As they made their way down to the Hufflepuff common room, Voldemort tried to figure out what kind of con Dumbledore was running. He was hiding something valuable on the third floor, yet he wanted everyone in the magical world to know about it. Why?

The Headmaster was probably betting that two pieces of cheese in his mousetrap was better than just one. Not only was Harry Potter finally out from behind those wards in Little Whinging, but now there was also a great treasure being kept here at Hogwarts. To Dumbledore the prospect of both killing the Boy-Who-Lived **and** stealing this unknown treasure was sure to drawn the Dark Lord out from wherever he was hiding. It was a reasonably clever plan.

The Hufflepuff Basement—as this section of the castle was known—was even worse than Voldemort remembered. There was yellow everywhere, all the windows were round, and the furniture was too bloody comfortable. During his schooldays he had explored every square inch of Hogwarts, and this common room was by far the most cozy place in the castle. It made him nauseous.

"Welcome to Hufflepuff, my name is..."

Voldemort stopped paying attention to the prefect's lecture at this point, and began studying his new classmates. The only member of his year that he didn't know was Megan Jones, a Welsh girl with long black hair and blue eyes. His Legilimency told him that she was nervous about her family's reaction to her sorting. One of her Aunts was a famous Quidditch player and another was an Auror, yet she ended up here in Hufflepuff. Her lack of self-confidence was widespread in the room, and Voldemort thought it wouldn't take much effort to gain control of the lot of them.

"It certainly took you guys long enough," the prefect said as the round door opened wide. Two of the older students rolled a large wooden barrel into the middle of the common room, and then attached a copper spigot to it. "Alright everyone, let's have some 'Puff-punch!"

Voldemort had never hear about this particular tradition before. He reluctantly drank from the cup one of the prefects handed to him, and analyzed the unknown beverage. It was some kind of fermented fruit punch mixed with a Calming Draught. And if he wasn't mistaken this **'Puff-punch** also contained a mild hallucinogen of some sort. Well, that was certainly one way of instilling a sense of house loyalty in the first-years students. Perhaps he should have used something similar with his Death Eaters.

As the wireless began playing loudly in the background, a group of older students approached his brother. "We can't tell you what a honor it is to have Harry Potter as a member of Hufflepuff. If there is anything you need, just ask."

Harry looked over at his brother, and Voldemort gave him a small nod. "There are two things I was wondering about. I have a magical portrait, and I was hoping to hang it here in the common room. Is that allowed?"

"Who is the portrait of?"

"My mother Lily Potter. She isn't really my mother though, since it was painted before I was born. That's why she insists that I call her Lily. Putting in my dorm room would be too weird, but I didn't want to leave back at my house in Little Whinging either."

The group of Hufflepuffs elders conferred in private for a few minutes, and then returned with their answer. "We decided that since Lily Evans was one of the most intelligent witches to attend Hogwarts in decades it will be OK to hang her portrait here in the common room. Even if she was a Gryffindor."

Harry gave them a huge and goofy smile. That cup of 'Puff-punch was definitely having an effect on him. "Thanks a lot. The other thing I wanted to ask about was my familiar Gamera. He is a fire crab, so I was wondering if I could make a bed for him inside the fireplace. I don't want him to accidentally set any beds on fire during the night."

Tonks gave a Harry a horrified look. "You have a fire crab as a familiar? Are you lunatic? Of course you are going to keep him down here in the fireplace."

After that the night became something of a blur. Two thing stood out in Voldemort's memory though. One was when an intoxicated Hermione Granger jumped-up on a table, and taught the young ladies of Hufflepuff how to properly Go-Go dance. It was a skill the girl had learned from her mother Beatrice, who apparently lead a **very** interesting life before becoming a dentist. (Hermione mention something about her working at a Carnaby Street dance club, and later going on tour with Black Sabbath.) All the boys of Hufflepuff agreed that they would send Mrs Granger an owl in the morning, thanking her for her efforts.

The second thing he remembered was playing a twenty-minute version of _Hey Jude_ on his guitar while all of Hufflepuff sang along with Harry. Those two little witches Hannah and Susan found their instruments wherever the house-elves had stored them, and they demanded another performance from the Potter brothers. Voldemort was mere seconds away from cursing the pair when Tonks grabbed him by the arm, and said that she wanted to see him play the guitar. After that he let Hannah and Susan off with a warning.

* * *

"Excellent wand control, Mr Potter. Ten points to Hufflepuff."

McGonagall was certainly a Gryffindor, Voldemort thought. She bravely ignored the fact that Vito Potter had transfigured his match into a needle nearly five minutes ago. His fellow Hufflepuffs had noticed her behavior as well. Not only was a Hogwarts Professor treating one of the Badgers unfairly, she was also trying to curry favor with the Boy-Who-Lived. It didn't sit well with any of them.

Of course Harry hadn't forgotten their first meeting when he had stunned the old hag for insulting his brother. "Professor, how long will this needle stay a needle before it turns back to a match?"

"That depends on several factors," McGonagall replied as many of the Ravenclaws who were sharing the class with the Hufflepuffs turned to listen to her answer. It was full of pseudo-technical nonsense that you typically heard from an academic.

Perhaps because Dumbledore had been his first Professor in the subject, Voldemort had always disliked Transfiguration. Not only was it magically-draining and time-consuming when compared to other branches of magic, but it was also unpredictable. Even masters of the Art like Dumbledore and McGonagall had no control over the length of time a object would remain locked in its altered form. Voldemort had tested himself regularly, and the exact same spell would sometimes last for minutes and sometimes for hours and sometimes for days. Those results convinced him that magical transfiguration was ultimately a random act.

This lack of precision always made Voldemort anxious. How could you rely on a transfigured wall during a duel when you had no idea how long it would remain a wall? Why that fool James Potter had even tried to turn his living-room sofa into a wolf during their final duel. Needless to say the tactic hadn't work. Voldemort could have cast a dozen Killing Curses before Potter's magical wolf even reached his throat, let alone ripped it out.

Voldemort had shared his doubts with Harry on several occasions, so the boy continued to ask questions. "But if we don't know how long a given spell will last, it can't really be used for anything important, can it? So Transfiguration is basically a parlor trick—like when a muggle magician pulls a rabbit out of his hat."

By now Minerva looked as if her head was going to explode. "That will be ten points from Hufflepuff for your cheek, Mr Potter."

Even the Ravenclaws realized that the Professor had just punished Harry for asking a difficult question. Nor has she given the class a satisfactory answer. Minerva McGonagall was making a poor first impression on her students.

Charms was a more enjoyable class, even the second time around. Professor Flitwick might be a filthy half-breed, but the man knew his magic. And he could teach, which was rare gift to find anywhere but especially here at Hogwarts. The little beast was also a skilled duelist, a talent Voldemort always respected in his fellow wizards—no matter who they fought for.

"I must say Miss Granger, between you and the Potter brothers Hufflepuff is sure to give Slytherin a run for the House Cup this year," the Charms Professor told the beaming muggleborn.

Observing the obnoxious Hermione Granger had lead to some surprising conclusions for Voldemort. Given his weakened state, the witch was much stronger than he was magically, and second only to Harry himself in their entire class. She was also highly intelligent, more so than any of the another first-years. Not quite a true genius like himself, but close. He would have to keep a close watch on her in the future.

Another surprise was Neville Longbottom and his skill at Herbology. The boy might be a disaster with a wand, but he certainly knew his way around a greenhouse. Growing up in a London had left Voldemort with no love for nature, and he detested gardening in all its forms. If he had marked Longbottom as his equal, the mysterious **Power** might have easily been some obscure piece of plant lore. How embarrassing it would have been for a powerful Dark Lord to meet his end as the victim of some man-eating scrub. Harry also liked to play in the dirt, but Voldemort knew his brother had no special abilities in this area. Meanwhile Professor Sprout was so happy with her first-year Badgers that a smile was plastered on her face for the entire Herbology class.

Back during the forties Professor Binns had already been a ghost for some time, and despite being a model student even Tom Riddle had occasionally fallen asleep during the History of Magic. The fact that the ghost had been dispatched by a necromancer was a great source of joy for all the students of Hogwarts.

Everyone also approved of Professor Lupin, and his much more lively teaching style. The werewolf knew he would last no more than a single term as a Professor at Hogwarts, so he decided to teach all seven years about the origins of the International Statue of Secrecy, and the reasons why wizards had separated themselves from the muggles. Voldemort approved of this curriculum. His fellow wizards and witches were too ignorant of their true history.

Along with Astronomy there was two more important classes on their schedules, and he was dreading both of them. Even at the height of his power Voldemort had given Mad-Eye Moody a wide berth. The Auror was a fanatic for the Light, and his willingness to bend—or even break—the law made him a dangerous foe. Teaching a subject like DADA would also give him plenty of opportunities to test his students for any signs of the Dark Arts. Voldemort would have to be extra cautious at all times.

And then there was Potions. Even as a skinny teenager Severus Snape had been one of his most talented Death Eaters, and he had no doubt the Half-Blood Prince had grown into a first-rate wizard. To face these possible threats Voldemort needed access to more of his magic. He need the Ravenclaw Diadem.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note**: I posted this story a few years ago under my old pen name, but later deleted it. Now I'm posting it again.

* * *

As the rest of the Hufflepuffs stumbled into their beds after another night of dancing and 'Puff-punch (there was a party _every_ night during the first week of September), Voldemort silently stepped out into the corridor under his best Disillusionment Charm. He had spiked the 'Puff-punch with a subtle Sleeping Draught, which gave him a five-hour window before the prefects came to their senses. He then sent out the Parseltongue command which hid his presence from the castle's portraits, and opened Lily Potter's unique copy of _A House-Witches Guide to Cleaning Charms_.

"Incest is a game every pureblood plays."

The witch's idea of a activation-phase brought a smile to Voldemort's face. If only it was possible to travel through time in both directions. Introducing Harry's muggleborn mother to the pureblood Gaunt family would certainly be a hoot.

The text of _A House-Witches Guide to Cleaning Charms_ slowly faded away, and was replaced with a detailed map of Hogwarts showing the exact location of everyone inside the castle. Thankfully the map showed him as Vito Potter—and not as Tom Riddle or Lord Voldemort. When Lily's portrait first described the Marauder's Map to them, Voldemort hadn't believed her story. How could four mediocre wizards like the Black, Potter, Lupin, and Pettigrew design something as ingenious as a real-time map of Hogwarts?

It turns out that Lily hadn't trusted the Marauders either. So during an intimate encounter in the Head Boy's suite she pressed her boyfriend James for an explanation, and he reluctantly told her the truth about the Map's creation. The four wizards had gotten most of details they needed from Phineas Black. Sirius had access to a portrait of former Headmaster of Hogwarts at his London townhouse, Number 12 Grimmauld Place. The Marauders forced the portrait to provide them with a complete diagram of the magical wards which surrounded Hogwarts. After that creating the Marauder's Map itself was relatively simple: all they had to do was create a secret access point to the preexisting wards, and connect it to a piece of parchment.

Lily had borrowed the Map from James, and studied it at length. Then she created her own version in a used charms book. _A House-Witches Guide to Cleaning Charms_ was far superior to the original Marauder's Map. It could detect the presence of new wards and other types of magical traps throughout the castle. It also showed if a witch or wizard was casting any magic spells, and what specific spell they were using.

_A House-Witches Guide to Cleaning Charms_ also had another useful feature: it showed the location of the Marauder's Map. It was currently in the procession of the Weasley twins, and that was a problem Voldemort would have to deal with a some point. Rather than torturing the twins—which is what he want to do—he was going to have to cut a deal.

A bigger surprise was the presence of Peter Pettigrew. The rat was alive and hiding right here at Hogwarts. Inside of Gryffindor Tower to be exact. Dumbledore was certainly going to be surprised when the news about Pettigrew hit the _Daily Prophet_, and Voldemort would make sure that it did—at the worst possible moment for the Headmaster.

After traveling through a hidden passageway and taking several other shortcuts (he knew them all by heart) Voldemort arrived at the seventh floor. He then paced back-and-forth three times, and mentally focused on the Ravenclaw Diadem. After a moment the entrance to the Room of Hidden Things was reveled. This was the single greatest discovery he had made during his years of exploring of Hogwarts, even more so than the Chamber of Secrets and the basilisk Ouroboros. And he was the only wizard in the world who knew of its existence.

After Voldemort locked the door behind him, he saw the room was empty except for the Diadem and a plain feather mattress. That was the true wonder of this place: the Room of Hidden Things read a wizard's mind, and provided him with whatever he desired. The underlying magic so intricate that even **he** couldn't completely understand it.

He had been waiting for this moment for five years, but Voldemort still wasn't looking forward to absorbing another piece of his soul. He didn't mind inflicting pain on others—in truth he rather enjoyed it—but he had no taste for it himself. Unfortunately pain was the price he had to pay. Voldemort picked up the Diadem Horcrux, sat down on the feather mattress, and then recited the ancient incantation. The reintegration his torn soul was even more excruciating than he remembered, and soon everything faded to black.

* * *

"Up."

While the other Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were screaming at their brooms, the worn-out Comet on the ground next to Voldemort effortlessly floated up into his waiting hand. He was still three Horcruxes away from regaining all of his magic, but after five years as a near-squib he was feeling wonderful this morning.

Voldemort glanced over at Harry, and saw that he was already holding his broom. His brother had the makings of a natural flier, and he would undoubtedly want to play Quidditch. Granger's face was turning red with frustration. Good, there was another weakness in the witch that he could exploit in the coming months.

Now that he had reabsorbed the soul fragment inside the Ravenclaw Diadem, Voldemort had considered leaving Hogwarts and striking out on his own. It was dangerous being here under Dumbledore's nose, but what were his other options? He was still too weak to move against Lucius Malfoy, and his dear Bella was locked away in Azkaban. His only chance of finding the Slytherin Locket was capturing Sirius Black. Of all the people in the world, only Regulus's brother would have any idea where traitor might have hidden the Horcrux.

Voldemort's magic might still be weak, but his political power would only grow if he continued his current association with Harry. As the brother of the Boy-Who-Lived, Vito Potter already had more influence than most members of the Wizengamot. But was that enough to take on a political powerhouse like Lucius?

He had no easy solutions to his problems, so Voldemort decided to amuse himself by sabotaging Longbottom's broom. The old Cleansweep was a piece of junk, so summoning a single bristle was all it took to send the boy spinning out of control. He quickly collide with poor Padma Patil, who slammed into the ground below with a sicken thump. Voldemort was glad to see the Indian witch had only suffered a broken arm; she was going to be a great beauty in a few years.

"Nice going Fat-bottom!" Lisa Turpin yelled as the Ravenclaws gathered around their injured housemate.

"Everyone remain here while I will take Miss Patil to the infirmary," their flying instructor Madam Hooch told them. "You will leave your brooms on the ground till I return. Is that clear?"

As Hooch carried the crying Padma into the castle, Harry started complaining to his brother. "Vito, we should have brought a pair of brooms _years_ ago. Flying is wicked!"

"In case you've forgotten, live in Little Whinging. If we tried flying in the middle of a muggle town the Aurors would have to arrest us for violating the Statute of Secrecy," Voldemort replied as he looked around for his next victim.

Granger also started to complain: "My broom doesn't work like the book said it would. Vito, how did you get your brooms to jump up into your hand so quickly? Tell me."

"Everyone shut up." Voldemort sense a strange magic in the air, and his instincts were never wrong about such things. "Wands out."

Harry and Hermione obeyed him, but since the Ravenclaws were Ravenclaws, they had to start asking questions. "Why should we listen to you?" one of them asked.

"Just do it!" Harry shouted, and that did the trick. "What is it Vito?"

"Over there," Voldemort said as he pointed to a large black dog on the edge of the grassy pitch. "Sirius Black has returned to Hogwarts. I think he plans on killing me while Madam Hooch is in the castle."

"That's just a dog," Terry Boot said in a condescending tone.

"Sirius Black is an illegal Animagus, you idiot," Harry explained. "Now everyone stay behind Vito and me. Hurry up!"

The students all moved to obey, and not one of them panicked. Harry had developed excellent leadership skills for a boy his age. Of course he had a brilliant role model to follow. After sniffing the air, the black dog started running towards their group. Right before it reached them, it transformed into a filthy-looking wizard.

"Harry, get away from that imposter!" Black shouted.

Harry had other ideas. "Everyone, curse the psycho!"

While the Potter brothers cast two accurate Stunners, and rest of their classmates were not so discriminating. An incredible variety of spells went flying in every possible direction. There was a Jelly-Legs Jinx, a Pepper-Breath Hex, and Granger even cast a good-old fashion Wingardium Leviosa. All of these spells missed Black by a wide margin, but that was to be expected since the first-years had only been at Hogwarts for a week. The escaped convict quickly reverted to his Animagus form, and retreated into the darkness of the Forbidden Forrest.

"Well, that was interesting," Voldemort remarked dryly.

Hermione, Hannah, and Susan immediately started crying. They were soon joined by the rest of the class, expect for Harry who just rolled his eyes. Yes, the boy definately had leadership potential.

* * *

After the excitement of Sirius Black's little ambush, Voldemort wasn't in the mood to deal with Mad-Eye Moody. Especially in a classroom setting. His first lecture showed that had his nose even farther up Dumbledore's arse than McGonagall's. And the idea that an Auror knew anything about the true nature of the Dark Arts was ludicrous. Voldemort was so annoyed that he accidentally showed a bit too much skill with his wand during their first practical exercise. Mad-Eye pounced on this mistake immediately.

"Potter, where did you learn to cast spells with such accuracy?"

Harry jumped to his brother's defense. "We have a set of training orbs to practice against, Professor Moody, and we use them for about an hour each day."

"And where did a pair of underaged boys buy a set of training orbs? The Ministry of Magic prohibits their sale to civilians."

"We bought them in New York City," Voldemort answered. "They let you buy things like that in the United States, even if you are underaged. They believe very strongly in their Second Amendment, and the Right to Bare Arms—even in the magical districts."

"I want to see them right now!" Moody thundered.

Harry ran off to the Hufflepuff Basement, and returned to the DADA classroom ten minutes later with ten small orbs. Everyone gathered around to watch as Voldemort tossed the white orbs into the air. They began floating around the room in random patterns and at random speeds. Harry drew his wand, and hit one of them with a weak stunner. The orb immediately changed color from white to blue, and began moving at a faster speed.

"The difficulty level automatically increases after each successful hit," Voldemort told his impressed classmates. "Since Hogwarts doesn't seem to have any, we would be glad to donate these ten orbs to the school, so that other students can practice their spell casting."

Professor Moody wanted to object to Vito Potter's considerate donation, but he couldn't come-up with an excuse quickly enough. Instead he just glared at the two brothers while the other students made a game out of hitting the floating orbs.

As much as Voldemort enjoyed brewing potions, he hated the thought of taking Potions here at Hogwarts. Even as a young man Severus Snape had been skilled at Legilimency, and his abilities had only grown with age. During his class Vito Potter had to keep absolute control over his mind, and project the false history he wanted the former Death Eater to see. Because of this constant mental effort he had to sit there silently, and take all the verbal abuse Snape dished-out. There was a constant stream of insults about his father James Potter, his lack of skill at potions, and his all-around stupidity.

The class was so awful that Harry complained to Lily. She was a childhood friend of Snape, so Harry thought she might have some influence over the git. Lily spent the next week moving from portrait to portrait, following Snape throughout the castle. She repeatedly told him that he was acting like a fool, and that Vito Potter was _not_ father James Potter. The Potion Master ignored her presence, and Voldemort soon realized the portrait was only making things worse.

* * *

"Vito, I can't believe that greasy shit tried to kill you right in the middle of potions class," Harry muttered. The Hufflepuffs were making their way out of the dungeons after another Potions class with Snape.

"Please mind your language," Hermione lectured.

Harry ignored her. After a few weeks with Lily's portrait his use of profanity had grown exponentially. Voldemort hadn't thought it possible, but Snape's behavior was even worse this week. The wizard had thrown a volatile ingredient into Vito Potter's boiling cauldron, causing it to explode. If Voldemort didn't have such excellent reflexes he would probably have been killed. It was an actual assassination attempt—right in the middle of the classroom. He couldn't decided whether it was brilliant or insane. Maybe it was both.

"We have to do something about him," Harry declared.

"Like what?" Voldemort asked. "Despite the fact that he's a lousy teacher, Dumbledore must have hired Snape for some reason. Trust me, he isn't going to fire a Professor because we ask him to."

Voldemort thought he figured-out the real reason the Dumbledore had hired the former Death Eater. Snape had betrayed his oath and had become a spy—in all likelihood because of Lily Potter's death. Now he was hiding from the other Death Eaters who had remained loyal to the pureblood cause. In exchange for providing this protection, Dumbledore gained a powerful and loyal servant.

"The Headmaster is pretty unpopular with the Ministry of Magic right now, isn't he?" Harry asked his brother.

That was a bit of an understatement. The day after the debacle with Sirius Black, Minister Fudge and a furious Director Bones had arrived at Hogwarts. It seems that Dumbledore had forgotten to inform the Ministry of Magic that the Prisoner of Azkaban had almost killed Harry Potter and several other first-years—including Director Bones' own niece. Susan had sent her Aunt an owl, telling her all about the attack and how the Potter brothers had saved them from certain death.

Voldemort wasn't sure what happened during the meeting, but it must have been unpleasant for Dumbledore. He had been forced to fired Madam Hooch the next day, and the Aurors were still crawling all over castle looking for signs of Sirius Black. Best of all the old bastard had been forced to award Vito and Harry a hundred house points each for their heroic actions out on the pitch.

"Yes, it's true that the Headmaster is very unpopular at the moment. But he is still Albus Dumbledore, and we are still just students," Voldemort explained. "If we challenge him politically, we will lose."

"What if we staged a strike?" Harry asked.

"I don't think that is a very good idea," Hermione whispered.

"Yes, it is. I remember Uncle Vernon always hated when the workers at Grunnings went on strike. Dumbledore is a nasty bully just like my Uncle was, so I bet that if the all students all went on strike over Snape's behavior it would really piss him off."

Voldemort smiled. "Yes, it certainly would."

It took a week to organize, but soon the Great Potions Strike of 1991 was on. The Hufflepuffs were the easiest to convince after the attempt on Vito Potter's life. The Badgers were very proud of Harry Potter and were willing to do anything to protect his brother. The Gryffindor were also quick to jump on the bandwagon, since they suffered the most abuse from Professor Snape. Being brash lions they were just happy someone was finally taking action, and they were even happier that it was the famous Boy-Who-Lived. No one was going to expel _him_ from Hogwarts, not even Dumbledore.

It was much more of a challenge to persuade the Ravenclaws, but in the end they also wanted a Professor who would actually teach them how to brew potions. Apparently Snape had built up a great deal of hatred among the students over the years. So on the third Monday of September three of the four houses refused to attend their Potions classes. It didn't take long to get a response.

"Mr Potter, Mr Potter. Will you please join me in my office after you are finished eating," Dumbledore told them during lunch. "I believe we have a great many things to discuss."


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note**: I posted this story a few years ago under my old pen name, but later deleted it. Now I'm posting it again.

* * *

Voldemort found himself enjoying the walk up to the Headmaster's office. It was foolish, but after all this time he was looking forward to a rematch. He was also curious to see if Fawkes would attack him. The phoenix was shrouded in mystery, and so it was possible that Dumbledore had concocted the story about it being a symbol of the Light. After all he had concocted the story of the Boy-Who-Lived, when in fact it was Lily Potter who had defeated him ten years ago.

Harry tried to engage Dumbledore in conversation, but the Headmaster remained silent. Voldemort was surprised at how fragile the old wizard looked, but that fragility only extended to his body. Dumbledore's magic was just as intimating as ever. A simple hand gesture was all it took to brush aside the hulking gargoyle that guarded his office door.

"What is this arse doing here, and why does he have Lily?" Harry asked when they reached the top of the stairs and found Snape waiting for them.

Voldemort could tell at once that something was wrong, because the Snape was sitting in the Headmaster's chair with his feet up on the Headmaster's desk. He also was ignoring them. Instead he was staring at Lily's Potter's motionless portrait like someone caught in a hypnotic trance.

"Mr Potter, I expect a certain amount of decorum from all my students," Dumbledore intoned like a pompous windbag.

"He tried to kill Vito right in the middle of Potions class. The greasy git should be in Azkaban."

Voldemort was proud to see Harry on the attack. Perhaps he could just sit this one out, and watch the other three fight.

Snape finally turned to look at them. "Potter, do you notice anything new about this portrait?"

Harry's face went white. Despite the short time since they found Lily's portrait, the boy had grown deeply attached to her. "What did you do to her?"

"What I should have done a long time ago, you arrogant twit. I accepted the truth that your mother was a whore. Even now with James Potter's little bastard staring her in the face she still chooses that conceited buffoon over me. My only regret is that Lily isn't alive. If she was I would spit in her face."

By the end of Snape's little tirade Dumbledore's face had also turned a ghostly white. "Severus please tell me that you did not destroy Lily Potter's portrait. That is considered a serious crime, punishable by a sentence in Azkaban."

"Please Albus, we both know you will not..."

What was as far as the Potion Master got before Harry attacked. Snape must have hear about their scuffle with Professor McGonagall, and as a result his Shield Charm was more than adequate. He then disarmed Harry, seized his wand out of midair, and snapped it in half. Voldemort was impressed with the display. Snape he had indeed become a powerful wizard since the end of the war.

"And according to your precious Prophecy this pathetic little Hufflepuff is going to save us? We might as well slit our own throats now, and save the Dark Lord the effort when he returns." The potion master then cast a particularly nasty curse to underscore his point about Harry's inadequacies.

With his brother under attack Voldemort felt compelled to intervene, and blocked the curse with how own Shield Charm. "Headmaster Dumbledore, would you please stop Professor Snape before he kills Harry."

Voldemort had some sympathy for the old wizard. He knew from personal experiences that it was never easy coming to terms with the treachery of one of your servants. Thankfully his words pulled Dumbledore out of his daze.

"Severus! Control yourself."

Snape responded with a bitter laugh. "Please Albus, you need me far more than I need you. When the Dark Lord makes an attempt to steal the Philosopher's Stone—and we both know that he will—I will be the one who has to stop him. Or are you really believe that Minerva or Pomona or any of the other Professors are capable of dealing with such a brilliant and powerful wizard?"

It was fascinating for Voldemort to watch Dumbledore's reaction to all of this. If one of his Death Eaters had addressed him in that tone of voice Voldemort would have responded with the Cruciatus Curse. Dumbledore, however, did nothing.

Harry—who had been just as interested in the argument between the two older wizards as he was—finally spoke up: "Voldemort is dead you greasy idiot. And what is the Philosopher's Stone?"

"Are you going to Oblviate these two, or shall I?" Snape asked. He seemed confident that there would be no punishment for any of his actions today.

"You can't Oblviate us. That's a crime!" Harry said as they both started to back away towards the door of the office. A door which was now magically locked.

"I'm so sorry Harry, but you far too young to know about the Prophecy. And it is of vital importance that Professor Snape remains here at Hogwarts," Dumbledore said in that sickening voice of his.

Voldemort hadn't thought it possible to hate Dumbledore anymore than he already did, but this was a new low for the self-righteous hypocrite. With blinding speed the Headmaster drew his wand and cast a pair of Memory Charms, followed by a pair of stunners. To Voldemort's amazement the spells had no effect on him, but he quickly covered by dropping to the ground and closing his eyes.

"This is an excellent opportunity to get rid of the little American bastard. He is too intelligent for his own good, and Harry will be much more tractable without him around," Snape offered.

"Shut our mouth. Up until this point I have tolerated your puerile behavior towards Vito Potter, but no longer. If you ever disobey me again I will hand you over to Alastor Moody—without your wand. You may think that you are indispensable to my plans, but as a muggle leader once pointed out: the graveyards are full of indispensable men."

So it seemed that the old lion still had his teeth. Even though Voldemort still had his eyes closed, he was certain that Dumbledore's outburst had cowed Snape. At least for the moment.

The Headmaster then continued in a much gentler tone of voice: "Tonight at dinner I will announce that I have confiscated the portrait of Lily Potter because she was causing a public disturbance. At the same time you will publicly apologize to Vito Potter for not preventing that potion's accident. That should be enough to end this little strike by the students."

"I will never apologize to James Potter's bastard."

"Enough!" Dumbledore roared. "You may be powerful Severus, but I can still crush you. I can crush you with easy. Never forget that."

"How will you explain what happened to these two?"

"I will tell Poppy that Harry accidentally destroyed his wand, and that the resulting explosion knocked them both unconscious. Which is true... from a certain perspective," Dumbledore said as Voldemort felt himself being levitated into the air. "You had best start practicing that apology. Your future at Hogwarts depends on it."

* * *

The next day found Voldemort in the Chamber of Secrets grooming his old friend Ouroboros. One of the reasons Voldemort had wanted to return to Hogwarts as a Professor was so he could visit the basilisk more often. There was a secondary entrance to the Chamber of Secrets under the Black Lake which allowed the great serpent to feed, but until recently Voldemort had been a lousy swimmer, so he never used it. As he gently cleaned the dirt from under one of its beautiful black scales, he again marveled at what a majestic creäture Ouroboros was. Highly intelligent too.

Speaking in Parseltongue Voldemort asked: "_**Have you ever **__**heard of any stories about the Deathly Hallows, my old friend? From what I have been able to gather, the Peverell brothers were descendents of Slytherin and the ancestors of the Gaunt family. That means it is possible that the gemstone from my family ring is the fabled Resurrection Stone**_**.**"

Five years ago Voldemort had realized that he could not keep the Gaunt Ring with him, yet for some reason he had felt an intense attachment to it. As a compromise he had removed the odd gemstone and replaced it with fake, before once again returning the Ring to the Gaunt shack. Ever since then he had kept the gemstone with him, telling Harry that it had been a gift from his late mother. Given the inbreeding his family had practiced, it was entirely possible that the Gaunts had forgotten the true origin and purpose of the gemstone.

"_**I am sorry young one, but as you know I have been in hibernation for centuries," **_Ouroboros replied._** "I did meet several of the Peverells before my great slumber. They were intelligent wizards, so it is possible they created these Deathly Hallows you speak of. I am afraid you are just going to have to test the Stone if you want any answers. I for one wouldn't mind seeing Salazar once again—if only for a little while.**_"

As improbable as the existence of the Resurrection Stone seemed to Voldemort, it was the only explanation he could think of for the failure of Dumbledore's spells. It had taken only a little research into the Deathly Hallows to discover the last known location of the Elder Wand, and if Gellert Grindelwald no longer possessed the wand then there was a chance that Dumbledore stolen it after their famous duel. It would be just like the hypocrite to steal the Elder Wand from his lover, and then cover it up—just as he had stolen the Invisibility Cloak from James Potter's dead body.

If Voldemort held one of the Deathly Hallows, was it possible that it protected him from the others? There was only one way to find out. He took the Stone in his hand, turned it thrice, and thought about his great ancestor.

"Hello Tom."

That was definitely not the voice of Salazar Slytherin. He looked around and saw the ghostly form of a witch. She was a very ugly, but strangely familiar to him. Of course... he had just been thinking of Lily Potter.

"Hello mother. I never thought I would actually meet you."

"No, the Great Dark Lord Voldemort was going to live for all of eternity."

Merope Gaunt's voice held no emotion, yet Voldemort could sense her contempt.

"And who are you to judge me, mother? You were nothing but a squib. You couldn't even seduce a muggle without using a love potion on him first. In the end you died in the filthy gutter of a London slum. You lived a pathetic life, from start to finish."

The ugly woman smiled. "You seem to have forgotten my one accomplishment: I am the mother of Tom Marvolo Riddle, the greatest wizard to be born in a thousand years."

"You gave me nothing," Voldemort hissed. "Everything I accomplished was by my own hand."

"Yet here you are. Trapped in the body of a child with only a faction of your vast magical strength. Quite an accomplishment," Merope said in that same emotionless voice. "It is insane for a wizard to divide his magical soul, yet you did it several times."

"It was the only way I could gain immortality—not that someone of your limited intelligence could possible understand that," Voldemort sneered.

"I was intelligent enough to understand that the Gaunt family was destroying itself. I was intelligent enough to know that my child would need the blood of an outsider, or he would end up just as weak as the rest of us. Tom Riddle may have been a muggle, but he also was brilliant, strong, and handsome. The bloodline of Salazar Slytherin gave you your magic, but all your other gifts came from your father. The muggle. But you threw it all away to become a hideous freak."

"I was so powerful that people were afraid to speak my name."

"My son, the great fool," Merope remarked. "Did it ever occur to you what you could have accomplished as Tom Marvolo Riddle if you hadn't squandered the many gifts you were born with? By now you could have chosen as the Minister of Magic and as the Supreme Mugwump. You could have pushed Albus Dumbledore into an early retirement, and then into an early grave."

"None of this is real. You are not real. Nothing exist beyond death," Voldemort whispered as he turned his back on the ghost. "I know of several magical artifacts that can read minds, so this Stone is simply projecting a false image using my own memories. You are not real!"

"Perhaps my son, but do my views lack merit?"

Voldemort turned around to continue their argument, but the ghost of Merope Gaunt had already vanished.

* * *

"Hey Vito, good luck today," Longbottom said as the Hufflepuffs marched en masse down to the Quidditch pitch for their first match against Ravenclaw.

The second boy of prophecy was starting to unnerve Voldemort. When Harry had lost his wand he had insisted like a good Hufflepuff that his friend Neville should accompany him when he visited Ollivander's shop in Diagon Alley. Since Longbottom had gotten a proper wand his magic had improved, and it turned out that Voldemort had grossly underestimated the boy's magical strength. He was thinking about arranging another accident, and this time it would be a fatal one.

"Neville, my fellow beater doesn't need any luck. He has skill," Tonks said.

Despite his best efforts Voldemort found himself blushing. It was her fault that he was in this stupid uniform, but still he blushed. "Thank you, Dora."

"I told you before, I prefer **Tonks**."

"And I prefer Dora," Voldemort replied. "It is a much more appropriate name for such a beautiful witch."

Tonks cursed him. But she was smiling while she did it, so he considered the brief exchange a victory.

After Madame Hooch was sacked, Hogwarts needed a new flying instructor. Megan Jones' famous Aunt Gwenog volunteered for the job until Dumbledore could find a permanent replacement. Once the professional Quidditch player saw the Potter brothers fly, she insisted that they be allowed to tryout for the Hufflepuff team despite their age. Professor Spout was so mad about the loss of Lily Potter's portrait—and so desperate for the Quidditch Cup—that she agreed. That week all the Hufflepuff first-years were given a chance to tryout for the house team.

Voldemort hadn't planned on doing well during the tryouts. However Tonks' presence as the other beater changed his mind, and he flew like the genius he was. Harry also did well, both as a seeker and a chaser. He chose to play the latter position. According to Harry being a seeker was boring, while scoring with the Quaffle reminded him of his beloved football. Megan Jones had also made the team as a chaser, and the rest of Hogwarts was sure that the "Flying Firsties of Hufflepuff" were going to get slaughtered by the more experienced Ravenclaw team

It was not to be. Maybe it was Dumbledore's attempt to Oblviate him, or maybe it was his encounter with Merope Gaunt in the Chamber of Secrets. Either way Voldemort had a lot of angry to work out on the pitch. As a result he was an assassin with the Bludger, and managed to send no less than four Ravenclaw players to the infirmary before the match was over. Harry had sixteen goals, and Cedric Diggory finally caught the Golden Snitch after the Ravenclaw seeker was taken-out with a crushed ribcage. Much to the school's amazement the final score was 390-20.

* * *

The party that night was lively even by Hufflepuff standards, and the 'Puff-punch flowed freely. There was also a great deal of dancing and even more snogging. Voldemort preferred the formality and elegance of the Slytherin lifestyle, but this kind of coarse atmosphere did have its charms.

"Vito Potter, I can't believe how barbaric you were today," Granger remarked as they watched Harry make an idiot of himself out on the dance-floor with Megan Jones. "I must say, I expected better behavior from someone so intelligent."

"Hermione, stop annoying my fellow beater," Tonks said in a slurred voice as she draped her arm over Voldemort's shoulders. The witch had been drinking early and often that night. "Vito was brilliant out on the pitch. Come here and give me a little kiss."

Voldemort saw his chance and took it. As Tonks leaned in for a friendly peck on the cheek he intercepted her lips, and gave her a deep kiss instead. As they were kissing he reached around and placed his hand against the back of her slim neck. He then sent a surge of wandless magic directly into the pleasure center of her brain, which had the effect of giving the young witch a minor but very real orgasm. He had created the Gräfenberg Hex himself, and it was one of the reasons Bellatrix had been so devoted to him.

Tonks pulled away from him in shock, but that shock quickly turned to anger. She dragged him away to a secluded corner of the common room, and then drew her wand. "What in the name of Merlin did you just did to me Vito Potter?"

"Dora, I didn't do anything to you," Voldemort lied. "That was just the creation of our Soul Bond."


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note**: I posted this story a few years ago under my old pen name, but later deleted it. Now I'm posting it again.

* * *

"What did you just say?" Tonks asked through gritted teeth.

"I said what you just felt was the creation of our Soul Bond," Voldemort replied, lying though his teeth.

"Vito Potter we do not have a Soul Bond, and if you say we do one more time I'm going to hurt you," Tonks said in a now-clear voice. It was amazing how quickly a person can sober-up if you placed them under enough stress.

"Listen Dora, I know that you are a few years older than I am, but that doesn't matter. The Soul Bond we have been given is a rare and precious gift."

"No Vito, what **I** have been given is a one-way trip to Azkaban if anyone overhears this conversation."

Voldemort gently took Tonks' hands and wrapped his own around them. "We have been joined together by the power of Magic itself. That is something no mere wizard or witch can rent asunder." To emphasize his point he cast another wandless Gräfenberg Hex through her hands.

"Will you please stop doing that!" Tonks yelled once she got a hold of herself.

"I am sorry, but I have no control over this," Voldemort said, lying yet again.

"Fine, this is what we are going to do: you will never touch me again," Tonks told him. "Is that clear? **Never again**."

"That simply isn't a practical solution," Voldemort said. He managed to keep a straight face as he got down on one knee. "Instead, I think we should get married. Nymphadora Tonks, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

* * *

Much to Voldemort's disappointment there was no wedding that night, so things returned to normal the next day. It was Sunday morning, which meant that Justin's snowy white owl Bianca made her weekly delivery to the A-Level Club while they were eating breakfast.

Justin's father Sebastian Finch-Fletchley had hired several professional tutors to help organized their curriculum. On Sunday they received their weekly assignments from the tutors, and the Club met three times a week to work on them. On Fridays they mailed their finished assignments back to London. It was a lot to expect from kids their age, but they made it work because the Potter brothers were natural leaders and because Granger was a natural slave-driver when it came to schoolwork.

"Hello Bianca, would you like some fresh bacon?" Harry asked. The white owl seemed to like Harry even more than her master Justin did, which was really saying something.

"Harry, give me the letters," Granger said with her usual amount of tack. Voldemort shot her a nasty glare, and the witch quickly added a "please". A great deal of his time was spent tying to filing away the girl's more obnoxious mannerisms, but she was too valuable to simply kill. However there were times when he was sorely tempted.

"We have so much schoolwork to do already. Why does your Club volunteer to do more?" Hannah asked.

"Hannah Abbott! We are Hufflepuffs, and a true Hufflepuff can never have too much work to do," Harry replied.

"Oh Neville, you will be interested in this. We have to write an essay on the plants of the Highlands, so maybe you could give us some tips on what we should be looking for," Granger said in an excited voice.

But then Granger always excited when they got their weekly assignments. To be fair, Voldemort had to admit that the tutors Sebastian hired were all top-notched. The lesson plans they designed were well thought out, and interesting even for average students like Harry and Justin. Already several of the other muggleborns had expressed an interest in joining the Club. After seeing the reality of Hogwarts many were looking for ways to keep their educational options opened.

Speaking of the unpleasant aspects of life at Hogwarts: "I can't believe that Dumbledore allows this stupid Muggle Club to exist, it's a disgrace. Wait until my father hears about this," sneered Draco Malfoy. The little ponce had made his way over to the Hufflepuff table when he saw Justin's distinctive white owl arrive.

"Shut up Malfoy. The last time you got into an argument with Harry you wet your pants, so go back to the filthy snakes where you belong," Susan told him. As the niece of Amelia Bones she was the one of the few Hufflepuff who didn't care about making an enemy of the Malfoy family, since Lucius already wanted the Bones family dead.

"You know Draco, when you are writing your father you should ask for an extra set of undergarments in case you have another accident," Daphne Greengrass said—much to the amusement of her two companions Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil. "The house-elves can only do so much with urine stains."

The dark-haired witch was a fascinating case-study for Voldemort. He knew from her sorting that she should have been in Slytherin, yet she had ended-up in Gryffindor instead. Greengrass had certainly landed on her feet; Brown and Patil were already under her complete control. The three of them were the prettiest and best-dressed of the first-years girls, and they dominated the weaker Gryffindor males.

Weasley, Thomas, Finnigan, Smith, and Macmillan were a sorry lot. Of the entire group only Dean Thomas any brains, but he was only interested in art and football. It had taken Greengrass just a few short weeks to establish herself as undisputed leader of the Gryffindor first-years.

That is what Draco was tying—and failing to do—by attacking the A-Level Club. He had to show his housemates that he was the equal of Harry Potter if he wanted any real power in Slytherin. The wanker wouldn't have lasted long back in Tom Riddle's day. In his youth Voldemort had fought battles on a daily basis during his first year, and he had only managed to survive because of his skill at wandless magic. There had been dozens of trips to the infirmary, but that all ended in his second year when he revealed the fact that he was a Parseltongue. Voldemort doubt if Lucius' son had any such hidden talents.

"Do you know who you are talking to Greengrass?" Draco asked, making a pitiful attempt at intimidation.

"Of course she does you stupid tosspot," the youngest Weasley replied as the five Gryffindor boys surrounded Malfoy. The male lions weren't very powerful, but there were five of them. It seemed as if the new lioness had a pride at her command.

"Hey, what is going on here?" Marcus Flint asked.

Voldemort knew the older Slytherins' type well. He was a mindless thug, and probably on Lucius' payroll as one of his heir's secret bodyguards; it was a practice many of the wealthier purebloods followed. Magical children were rare, and they had to be protected. Especially at a madhouse like Hogwarts.

"Malfoy was just about to apologize for insulting Miss Greengrass," Ernie Macmillan told the large Slytherin. "He was being very rude."

Voldemort smiled. That pompous git Macmillan was going to start a brawl right in the middle of the Great Hall with his big mouth. Harry saw the signs as well, but unlike his brother he wanted to avoid a fight if possible. So he reached over for Granger's bowl of oatmeal, and dumped it all over Draco's head.

"Food Fight!"

Normally the other students would have just ignored the call to arms, but this was the Boy-Who-Lived. That made all the difference, so the Weasley twins started things off by casting an Engorgio on a banana, and sent it flying towards the Slytherin table. The Great Hall was instantly turned into a culinary battlefield. Some students tried casting Shield Charms, but that only enraged the others. Those using their wands quickly found themselves under attack from behind, and learned how hard is was to cast a three-hundred and sixty degree Shield. The Professors finally stepped-in and attempted to restore order, but that turned out to be a mistake on their parts.

"Everyone aim for the High Table!" Harry shouted as he sent a lemon-filled pastry flying straight at Dumbledore's head. "Aim for the High Table!"

* * *

As Voldemort slowly regained consciousness he began cursing himself for trusting that damn werewolf. Lupin had casually asked him to stop by his office for a chat, and he should have realized it was a trap when the Professor hadn't explicitly included Harry in the invitation. Then his eyes began to focus, and he realized that he was tied to a chair. This was the Shrieking Shack, and that was definitely Sirius Black with a wand in his hand. A beaten and unconscious Peter Pettigrew was laying on the floor. None of this was good.

"The little bastard is finally awake," Black snarled. "Who are you?"

Lupin grabbed his old friend by the arm, and gave the escaped prisoner him a hard yank. "Padfoot, calm down! I agreed to let you talk to Vito because you were right about Peter, but that is all we are going to do. Talk."

"Professor Lupin, why am I tied-up, and why are you listening to the man who betrayed my father?" Voldemort asked in his best eleven year-old voice. He only had three Horcruxes left, and he didn't want to risk being killed. Again.

"James Potter was not your father," Black said."Now tell me who you are? Are you here to kill Harry? Answer me! _Crucio_!"

"Stop!" Lupin shouted.

It had been a long time since Voldemort had felt the power of an Unforgivable Curse, and in an odd way he found it reassuring. "He insane! You are a Professor, and you brought me here to be tortured and killed by a maniac!"

Voldemort's only real hope was to divide the two men, and get them fighting each other instead of him. It worked: Lupin threw Black to the ground, and confiscated his wand. After a decade in Azkaban, Black was no match for the werewolf—even in his weaker human form.

"I can't believe you cast an Unforgivable Curse," Lupin said. "I told you that I stole some Veritaserum from Snape. We can get our answers without torturing a child. Do you understand me Padfoot?"

"Fine," Black spat. "Give the little imposter three drops so we can be done with him."

Veritaserum. That was the first bit of good news Voldemort heard since he regained consciousness. "You have Veritaserum? Professor, I will be happy to take some if you keep that monster away from me. I don't want to die."

He said all this with a whimper in his voice and tears in his eyes. Lupin seem to buy his act, even if Black did not. The werewolf took a glass vial out of his robes, and poured three small drops on Voldemort's out-stretched tongue.

"What is your name?" Lupin asked after the Potion had taken affect.

"Vito Bianchini originally, but now my name is Vito Potter." It was a relatively simply matter to defeat the magical truth serum. Simply, if you were a master Occlumens.

"Who are your parents?"

"Gina Bianchini and James Potter." While that statement wasn't true biologically, it was true legally. So he didn't even have to lie.

"How can you be sure?" Lupin asked.

"It was confirmed by the British Ministry of Magic." Voldemort answered. "They have blood records that can't be altered."

"Do you want to hurt Harry Potter?"

"No." That statement was also true. Voldemort had no plans to kill his brother until he was absolutely sure that Harry's unknown **Power** was. The research might take years, or even decades.

"Are you taking orders from any Death Eaters?"

"No." As if a Dark Lord would take orders from his own servants.

"Do you know anything about the relationship between James Potter and your mother?"

"They must have done **it** at some point." This answer embarrassed both Lupin and Black. British wizards tended to be puritanical about sex, and hopefully that would stop them from asking anymore questions about the late Gina Bianchini.

"Padfoot this is ridiculous. Peter betrayed us, so why can't you accept the fact that James might have had an affair? He was just as human as the rest of us."

"Moony, I know that Prongs had his faults, but I also know that he took an Unbreakable Vow on his Wedding Day that he would never forsake Lily for another woman. I acted as their Bonder, and you know that there is no way to finesse an Unbreakable Vow."

_Oh shite_, Voldemort thought to himself.

Lupin turned to study Vito Potter. "It could be a Memory Charm, but why would someone go through all this trouble to provide Harry with a fake brother for five years?"

"It's not a memory charm," Black snarled. "The little bastard is lying. I'm sure of it."

"Padfoot, there is no way you can know for sure."

"Moony, no matter who did this, Vito is a threat to Harry. I'm not going to let him harm James' only son and heir."

"You are not suggesting that we kill him are you?" Lupin asked in a quiet voice.

"No," Black replied in an equally quiet voice. "First we have to learn who sent him to live with Harry, and who helped him create this false identity. Then we are are going to kill him."

At that moment Voldemort knew there was no reasoning with Black. He desperately wanted to question the Marauder about his brother Regulus, but not at the expense of his own life. Dying again was too much of an unknown risk. Luckily his backup had smelled his scent on the wind, and came to the Shrieking Shack to investigate.

"_**Ouroboros, slay them all**_," he hissed in Parseltongue.

The three remaining Marauders were never seen alive again.

* * *

"Vito, this is crazy," Harry said.

The two brothers were standing in a locked bathroom less ten minutes after Voldemort had returned to the castle. He was still furious with himself for falling into the Professor Lupin's trap, and he knew that if Ouroboros hadn't been out hunting tonight he would probably be dead by now.

"Harry, I have been reading through the books we found in your Vault, and I am telling you that this Locket was stolen from the Potter Family by some other purebloods. The house-elf will only return Locket to you if it rightfully belongs to our family."

This convoluted lie was the best he could come up with on such short notice. Voldemort was taking a gamble by involving Harry in the hunt for one of his missing Horcruxes, but with Professor Lupin now dead he had to move quickly. There was no telling what the werewolf had told Dumbledore before his meeting with Sirius Black, and it was possible that his Vito Potter identity would be discredited in a matter of hours. Perhaps it already was, but he had to take this one last chance.

"Are you sure this plan will work?"

"My plans always work, don't they?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes, they always work. You are the most brilliant wizard in the world. You are even smarter than Hermione Granger and Albus Dumbledore put together."

"Just follow the script I wrote for you. Call the house-elf, and show the little bugger that drawing."

"Kreacher!" Harry shouted.

To Voldemort's amazement the Black house-elf did appear, but it looked nothing like the ones they found working in the kitchen near the Hufflepuff common room. This Kreacher looked... repellant. The crazy stories Bellatrix used to tell him about this house-elf must have been true.

"Kreacher is here. What does Young Master require?"

"Do you know where to find this?" Harry asked as he held up a drawing of a golden Locket with the letter S engraved on it.

The old elf's whole body began to shake violently. "How does you know about Master Regulus' Locket?"

The script Voldemort wrote was very clear on what Harry was supposed to say next. Confidence was the key to dealing with these little monsters. "Do not question me house-elf. Bring the Locket to Hogwarts at once."

As soon as the last word left Harry's mouth the house-elf disappeared, and he returned only a few seconds later. "Here is Master Regulus' Locket. Will Young Master destroy it?"

Harry ignored the question and continued to follow the script. "You will never speak of this again. Not to anyone. Now return home."

After Kreacher left Harry began to study the ornate Locket. "I like it the green gems. You say this belonged to Solomon Potter? It feels kind of strange to me."

Voldemort was too stunned to say anything. He had suspected that Sirius Black had named Harry as his heir, a fact which gave him control over the Black house-elves. He also believed that Regulus had destroyed the Locket before his death, and that clearly wasn't the case. He now had one of his three remaining Horcruxes.

"To be safe I should really check the Locket for any curses, but I'll give it back to you in the morning."

"Thanks Vito, you are the best," Harry said as he left to get ready for bed.

There was no time for any ingenious plans, so Voldemort just went to his own bed and closed the curtains. He then cast a Privacy Ward, and placed the Locket right on his bare chest. It was going to be a long and painful night.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note**: I posted this story a few years ago under my old pen name, but later deleted it. Now I'm posting it again.

* * *

The next week was a nerve-racking one for Voldemort. At any moment he believed Dumbledore would find out the truth about Vito Potter, and attempt to capture or even kill him. He carried Lily's map of Hogwarts with him at all times, and had a dozen escape routes constantly mapped-out in his mind. But then nothing happened. It seemed as if everyone agreed that Professor Lupin had gone after his former best friend Sirius Black, and met some horrible fate at his hands.

During that long week Voldemort often questioned why he was still at Hogwarts. After he had reabsorbed the Locket Horcrux his magic strength was at least equal to that of Professor McGonagall or Mad-Eye Moody, and it would be easier to deal with Lucius Malfoy from outside of Hogwarts. Despite all the risks he was taking by remaining Vito Potter, he couldn't bring himself to leave, and that frightened Voldemort. But than emotions other than hatred always had.

Another side-effect of Lupin's sudden disappearance was the need for new professor for the History of Magic. To Neville's horror his grandmother Augusta Longbottom offered to teach until Lupin was found. While Madame Longbottom wasn't a great teacher, she was still an improvement over the recently departed Professor Binns.

"Harry Potter and Vito Potter. I would like to speak with you both alone," the domineering witch told them after their History of Magic class was over. Neville shot them an apologetic look, but then ran away like a coward.

"I have been told that you convinced my grandson that he needed a new wand, and that you paid for it with your own funds. Is that true?" Madame Longbottom asked.

The witch was very tall, and had the regal bearing of a born aristocrat. That didn't bother Harry in the least, and he looked her straight in the eyes before answering the question. "Yes, that's true. Neville was using his father's wand, and it was a poor match for his magic. Now that he has a new wand he's doing much better in all his classes."

"That's not surprising. The wand chooses the wizard." Voldemort added, quoting Ollivander.

Madame Longbottom turned away from Harry and gave his brother a thorough inspection with her eyes. "You have poor manners, but that is to be expected from a Yankee bastard."

"I think you should ask Professor McGonagall what happened when she insulted my brother," Harry hissed as he reached for his new wand. "I brought Neville a wand because he needed it, and I'm not going to apologize for helping a friend. Unlike you selfish Gryffindors, we Hufflepuffs always stick together. If that makes you angry, then you're nothing more than a stupid cow."

Instead of being offended the old witch threw back her head and laughed. "If either one of you two were girls we would be signing a betrothal contract tomorrow."

"Are you crazy?" a confused Harry asked.

"I apologize for my behavior, but I had to see what kind of friends my grandson has been making. Neville is the most important... the most **precious** thing I have left, and all he can talk about is how wonderful the Potter brothers are. I had to make sure he wasn't falling in with the wrong sort of people."

"Apology accepted. But don't insult Vito again, or you will regret it—even if you are Neville's grandmother," Harry told Madame Longbottom in a deadly serious voice.

"A bit of friendly advice." Voldemort remarked as they turned to leave. "I would keep an eye on Hermione Granger and Daphne Greengrass. They are the most promising witches in our year, and both would be good matches for Neville when the time comes."

* * *

He felt safe mentioning those two names because Harry had developed his first crush, and it wasn't on Granger or Greengrass. Instead the Boy-Who-Lived had suddenly become tongue-tied around his fellow chaser, Megan Jones. Watching his brother act like an idiot around the Welch witch was the only thing that made Quidditch practice bearable for Voldemort.

Dora wouldn't come within ten meters of her fellow beater. In fact she always stayed on the opposite side of the pitch. He couldn't tell if she was starting to believe that they actually did have a Soul Bond, or if she simply wanted nothing to do with him. Either way, he found the situation intolerable.

Unlike Quidditch, their classes were a breeze. Once McGonagall realized that Hermione Granger and Vito Potter were the two best students Hogwarts had seen in decades, she finally pulled that enormous stick out of her arse and started teaching. Mad-Eye Moody also had a change of heart concerning the Potter brothers. Not only were they brilliant at Defense, but they were also doing wonders with their fellow Hufflepuffs. Harry in particular loving tutoring his classmates, and by end of November every student in their class could cast a Shield Charm. They were weak Shield Charms, but it was still incredible progress for first-years and the former Auror couldn't help but be impressed.

After a while their classes started to get boring again, so Voldemort began looking for a hobby while he waited for Dumbledore to make his next move. He found one thanks to Gamera. Harry's pet fire crab was a native of Fuji and he disliked his daily swims in the cold waters of the Black Lake. Voldemort also missed the swimming club he used to attend with Harry, so he asked Professor Sprout for permission to renovate the abandoned Roman-style baths located in a neglected section of the castle.

It had been over six-hundred years since the Baths of Hogwarts were in regular use. As far as anyone could determine they had been closed because of a spike in the number of pregnant school-age witches during the early fourteen century. Thankfully there had been a number of improvements in the Contraceptive Charm since then, so that wouldn't be a problem here in the late twentieth century.

With nothing else to occupy his attention, Voldemort threw himself into the renovation project. He did most of the spell work himself, but covered that fact up by enlisted an army of obedient Hufflepuffs. They weren't brilliant wizards and witches, but they were willing to work long hours for no pay. The same couldn't be said for the Slytherins or Gryffindors. On the other hand the Ravenclaws pitched-in towards the end, mostly out of historical curiosity.

Thanks to Voldemort's genius and the work ethic of the Hufflepuffs, the Baths of Hogwarts were back in working condition a full week before the students left for Winter Break. As a final touch Professor Flitwick cast a Charm over the main pool which replicated the outside sky—just like the Enchanted Ceiling in the Great Hall. While Professor Snape and his Slytherins were boycotting the Grand Reopening, the rest of the school was happy to have a warm place to swim during the long and sometimes brutal Highland winter.

"Well Minerva, you bet that my Hufflepuffs couldn't finish the renovations before the end of the year," Professor Sprout said with a huge smile on her round face. The Professors were standing back amid the row of towering statues that supported the ceiling over the pool. "But they did finish—a week early, I might add—so you have to do my midnight patrols until the end of the spring term."

McGonagall bristled. "I made that bet in jest, Pomona."

"I'm not laughing."

"Minerva, do pay up," Dumbledore said. "After all, a bet is a bet. If I might inquire Mr Potter, what are you using for a heating source? I can't detect any Warming Charms."

"Harry's familiar Gamera is providing all the heat we need, Headmaster Dumbledore. The fire crab's flaming flatulence keeps the temperature at an even thirty degrees Celsius, as well as sterilizing any pathogens in the water."

"A most ingenious solution." Dumbledore had that damn twinkle in his eyes again. Despite all his magical knowledge, Voldemort still couldn't figure-out how the old fraud created that effect. "Professor Sprout, Hufflepuff has outdone itself with this project, so I'm awarding them five-hundred house points. Barring some unforeseen disaster that should be enough to win the House Cup this year."

Spending any time with Dumbledore was repulsive to Voldemort, so left the chatting Professors and walked over to the stone edge of the pool. "How is the water?" he asked his brother.

"It is a bit warmer than our old pool back in Surrey, but otherwise it's great. I still can't believe they just stopped using a perfectly good pool. Don't wizards like to swim?" Harry wondered.

Before Voldemort could reply, Megan wrapped her arms around Harry's neck and dragged him under the water. That set-off another huge water battle. As he watched the Hufflepuffs play he pondered his brother's question. The ancient Baths of Hogwarts were just another sign of the rot which had spread throughout the magical world. Every year more and more was being lost or abandoned, and not just trivial things like a swimming pool. Their society needed radical changes, and soon before its decline became irreversible.

Voldemort's instincts told him that someone was standing behind him, and to his surprise he found that it was Dora. While she kept her face rather ordinary, the Metamorphmagus' body was another matter altogether. Even in a conservative one-piece bathing suit there was no hiding the fact that her proportions were as perfect as any Greek statue. No one looked that good without some sort of magic.

"Are you satisfied now?" she asked.

Voldemort knew that she was getting at, but decided to play dumb like a good eleven year-old. "What do you talking about, Dora?"

She waved her arms around at the vast room and its many ornate details. "You did **all** this just so you could see me in a bathing suit."

And they say that Dark Lords are narcissistic. We have nothing on your average teenager.

"Harry and I have been swimming for five years, and we didn't want to give it up for the whole school year."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"Would I dare lie to my beloved Soul Mate?"

After hearing that she tossed him into the water while he was still wearing his school robes.

* * *

"Vito, you have to see this wicked mirror. It doesn't show you your reflection, it shows… well, you just have to see it for yourself," Harry said to his brother the night before the Hogwarts Express left for Kings Cross Station.

Voldemort was looking forward to being out from under Dumbledore's thumb, but this did sound interesting. "Fine, let's go take a look."

Harry quickly led him to an empty class room, and he recognized the Mirror of Erised at once. So this was Dumbledore's final protection for the Philosopher's Stone. Voldemort had scouted the corridor on the third floor several times, and what he had found hadn't impressed him at all. A Cerberus, a Devil's Snare, a few enchanted keys, and a transfigured chessboard? He knew it was all window-dressing design to hide the real defenses.

If Dumbledore truly wanted to protect the Philosopher's Stone he would need an old and powerful magical artifact like the Mirror of Erised. Voldemort was now certain that the Stone was hidden inside the Mirror itself, but why had the Headmaster moved it away from the protections on the third floor? The grand manipulator never did anything like this without some sort of motive.

"You see Vito, I am standing right in front of the mirror, but it doesn't show me my reflection. Instead I see you and me. We are really old and disgusting like Dumbledore, but you are still my best friend," Harry told him in a painfully sincere voice.

So this is what Dumbledore wanted. The Mirror of Erised would read Harry's deepest thoughts, and the Headmaster could then use that information to control the Boy-Who-Lived. Voldemort opened all of his magical senses to search his immediate surroundings. Yes, there he was—standing right outside the door, listening in on their conversion.

"Now you try it. I want to know what you see."

He hesitated for a moment. If Dumbledore had control of the Mirror he might be able to use it like a pensieve, and play back whatever it revealed about Vito Potter. _Well two can play at this little game_, Voldemort thought as he brought his mental shields up to their full strength. He then stepped in front of the Mirror of Erised. _Let's see how Dumbledore likes this_.

"Tell me what you see," Harry demanded.

"I see Dora and me. We are... well, you know."

But given Harry's young age he doubted if the boy had any idea what his brother was seeing in the Mirror of Erised. Chronological Voldemort was in his sixties, but the false image was still a shocking sight—even for him. He briefly wondered if Dora could actually do something like that. It looked rather painful. (Where was Bellatrix when he really needed her?) Hopefully this experience would teach Dumbledore not to go snooping around in his mind.

"That is what you really, really want? To kiss Tonks? She is so **old**, and has pink hair. Short pink pair."

"I know Harry, you much prefer Megan's long black locks. And tell me again how beautiful her blue eyes are."

"Shut up, Vito!" Harry yelled before tackling him to the ground. The boy was using violence to deal with his emotions, which is something Voldemort did as well.

"May I ask what is going on here?"

The sound of Dumbledore's voice caused Harry to stand-up at once. Voldemort was glad to see a look of pure loathing on his brother's face. The Headmaster's Memory Charm might have worked, but Harry was still furious at the old wizard for confiscating Lily's portrait. It will be interesting to see what happens when Harry finds out that Snape destroyed the portrait.

"Headmaster Dumbledore, we found the Mirror of Erised and were curious to see our deepest desires," Vito replied. Harry wouldn't question how Vito knew what the mirror was called. After all their years together he simply accepted the fact that his brother knew everything... about everything.

"So you know that it does, and how dangerous it can be to those who use it. Wizards have wasted their entire lives staring into the Mirror of Erised," Dumbledore told them.

"We understand that. Perhaps it should be moved to a safer location, since Harry just ran across it by accident," Voldemort suggested in a polite tone that didn't fool Dumbledore.

"May I ask what you both saw?"

"That's none of your business," Voldemort replied, and without waiting for a proper dismissal the Potters started to leave.

"One more thing," Dumbledore said as he handed Harry as wrapped package he had been carrying in his purple robes. "There is something I want you to have: it's your father's old Invisibility Cloak."

Harry opened the package, and then gently ran his hand over the shimmering brown fabric of the Cloak. Voldemort could see that it was a work of art, but was it truly one of the Deadly Hallows? That would certainly explain why Dumbledore had kept it for so long.

"Why did you have this?" Harry asked. "According to Lily it has belonged to the Potter family for generations."

"Your father allowed me to borrow it, so that I could study its many amazing properties."

"You are lying," Harry said.

"What did you just say?" Dumbledore asked.

"You heard me, you are **lying**. My father had a wife and infant child to protect in the middle of a terrible war. He would never give away something as useful as an Invisibility Cloak. You must have stolen it from our house after my parents died," Harry reasoned.

"Mr Potter, I can assure you that your father gave me that Cloak to study."

"I don't believe you. You kept this for ten years, and you are only giving it back to me now so that I will like you. But it just makes me hate you even more."

Harry turned around and walked out of the classroom, while Dumbledore could do nothing but stand there in shock. Voldemort smiled. He had never been prouder of anyone in his life as he was of Harry Potter at that moment.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note**: I posted this story a few years ago under my old pen name, but later deleted it. Now I'm posting it again.

* * *

"Vito Potter, you are a dead man," Dora hissed. "Do you hear me, dead."

"Oh Nymphadora, stop being so melodramatic," Andromeda Tonks told her daughter. "This isn't the time to be having a fight with your little boyfriend."

Apparently Dora had told her mother that Vito Potter had a crush on her, and instead of being sympathetic her mother found the situation amusing. Being a beautiful woman herself Andromeda had dealt with numerous admirers over the years, and she didn't see why an eleven year-old boy should be causing her seventeen year-old daughter so much trouble. It seemed that Dora left out the part about them having a Soul Bond.

"Mother, he is **not** my little boyfriend mother, so would you please stop encouraging him."

"Of course Nymphadora, whatever you say. Now will you please change the color of your hair. That pink clashes horrible with your ivory dress," Andromeda remarked.

"I really must disagree Mrs Tonks," Voldemort said. "I think she looks absolutely stunning." That earned him another death glare, after which Dora changed her hair to a light brown color that perfectly matched her mother's hair.

Andromeda gave Voldemort a quick wink, thanking him for his bit of reverse physiology. "You and your brother look very handsome tonight. I imagine it was difficult to find such nice robes in your house colors."

"No kidding. We spent a whole hour at Madam Malkin's trying on a bunch of different monkey suits," Harry complained as he straighten-out his new yellow-and-black dress robe.

Voldemort let that remark go, since their shopping trip had allowed him to secretly plant an important rune stone in Diagon Alley. They were attending Minister Fudge's Winter Solstice Ball tonight, and in many ways this would be the Boy-Who-Lived's unofficial coming-out party. By wearing the colors of Hufflepuff they were hoping to turn a weakness into a strength. A quarter of the magical population were badger alumni, and when they saw Harry's picture in tomorrow's _Daily Prophet_ they would know that he wasn't ashamed of his house. It would also cause others (namely Slytherins like Lucius Malfoy) to underestimate the Potters, and that was fine as far as Voldemort was concerned.

"Why can't you take dad instead of me?" Dora whined.

"Because Ted isn't interested in becoming an Auror. Nymphadora, if you truly want to pursue a career at the Ministry of Magic this is an excellent opportunity to meet your future superiors. It's called networking, and it's important in both the magical and muggle worlds," Andromeda explained to her daughter. "Now are we all ready to go?"

After they nodded the witch threw some green Floo power into the fireplace and called out: "the Minister's Palace".

For once in his life Cornelius Fudge wasn't being deceitful when he choose his Floo address. Unlike the more modest London townhouse that Voldemort had visited years ago as a shade, Fudge's new home **was** a palace stuffed full of priceless artwork and antiques. Cornelius had come from a modest background, and his salary as the Minister of Magic certainly wasn't enough to pay for all this opulence. That made the "Minister's Palace" a blatant sign of his personal corruption, but he was either too arrogant or too stupid to care. Voldemort knew that this was a wizard he could do business with in the future.

"Harry Potter! I am so glad you could make it tonight," Fudge said as he waddled over to greet them at the fireplace. "I see you brought your brother Vincent, but who are these two lovely ladies?"

"This is Andromeda Tonks and her daughter Nymphadora," Harry replied. Normally he was too scared of Dora to call her by her proper name, but Voldemort had told him to be on his best behavior tonight. Seeing the Minister's confusion Harry added: "Andromeda Tonks _nee_ Black."

Fudge certainly recognized that name. "Oh, you are Narcissa Malfoy's sister. We haven't seen you out in society in..."

"Over twenty years," Andromeda supplied with a lovely smile. Despite her age she was nearly as beautiful as her daughter.

"Well Harry, let me gather everyone together so we can get started," Fudge said before he waddled off to the ballroom.

"Here she comes. It certainly didn't take her long," Dora whispered. "Are you sure you can handle her?"

"Mr Potter!" screeched a blonde witch. "I'm Rita Skeeter of the _Daily Prophet._ We met last summer at the Ministry of Magic. You remember me, don't you?"

"Of course I remember you," Harry replied after shooting his brother a nasty look. Voldemort had spent several unpleasant days preparing him for this Ball, and kissing the reporter's boney arse was high on the agenda tonight. "If I may say, you look lovely tonight. And your dress... I don't think I've ever seen that particular color before in my life."

"You're much too kind," an ecstatic and oblivious Skeeter said. "Harry... may I call you Harry?"

"By all means."

"Harry, may I ask you a few questions?"

"Miss Skeeter, I would be delighted to answer any questions you might have for me."

The witch didn't waste a second. "How do you feel about the death of Sirius Black, the man who betrayed your parents to their deaths at the hands of You-Know-Who?"

The day after the Hogwarts Express left for Kings Cross Station, a fire had gutted the Shrieking Shack thanks to a time-delayed rune stone Voldemort had planted there. When the Aurors arrived to investigate they had found the charred remains of Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, and quickly come to the conclusion that the two wizard had killed each other during a duel.

"I'm sorry that Professor Lupin lost his life, and all the students at Hogwarts are sad that we lost such a brilliant teacher. As for Sirius Black—the traitor got what he deserved," Harry answered.

"But you have been named as his official heir by the Ministry of Magic, How do you explain that?" Skeeter asked. Readers of the _Daily Prophet_ always liked to hear about the size of people's Vaults. Especially famous people like Harry Potter.

"I think it was a plot by Sirius Black and You-Know-Who to convince my parents that he could be trusted to act as their Secret-Keeper. Black was been in Azkaban for ten years, so he didn't have a chance to change his will," Harry explained. Voldemort had come-up with this story, and it did sound reasonable.

"What do you intended to do with the Black fortune?" Skeeter asked. She was clearly hoping to trap Harry into giving a foolish answer. Something like 'I'm going to start my own Quidditch team" or "I'm going to buy Zonko's Joke Shop"—anything that would make him sound like a stupid Hufflepuff.

Harry was ready for her though. "I will make that decision when I come of age in a few years. Until then the galleons will just sit in my Vault, earning interest."

"I have also just learned that Remus Lupin was a werewolf. Do you think such a dark creäture should have been allowed to teach at Hogwarts?"

"You should ask Headmaster Dumbledore that question. You should also ask him why he allows a former Death Eater like Severus Snape to teach Potions."

Skeeter immediately smelled the opening Voldemort had provided for her. "I take it you don't like Headmaster Dumbledore. Why is that Harry? You can tell me anything, and I will be sure to keep it a secret. If that is want you really want."

"Dumbledore hires lousy teachers. Professor Snape caused an accident which almost killed my brother Vito. Our former flying instructor left a group of first-years alone outside of the castle, and we had to defend ourselves against Sirius Black," Harry told the reporter. "Dumbledore has also ignored Hogwarts itself. The castle is in such a state of disrepair that students are forced to make major improvements by themselves. And the library is a joke. I don't think the school has bought a new book since my parents graduated back in the seventies."

"About your parents Harry: how do you feel about them being awarded the Order of Merlin posthumously?" Skeeter asked.

"I feel that it is ten years too late, but since Dumbledore is an incompetent Headmaster it shouldn't surprise anyone that he's also an incompetent Chief Warlock as well. This ceremony is only happening because I made a personal appeal to my good friend, the Minister of Magic."

Skeeter asked a few more trivial questions, but she had what she needed. Tomorrow's _Daily Prophet_ would contain a blistering attack on Albus Dumbledore by the Boy-Who-Lived, and that was sure to sell a lot of newspapers. Harry and his brother even offered to pose for several pictures, a rare opportunity which had the witch salivating like a hungry animal.

"Cor blimey!" Dora exclaimed after Skeeter left. "I can't believe you said all those things about the Headmaster."

"Nymphadora, if you are going to be an Auror you can't afford to be this political naïve," Andromeda said. The witch had been sorted into Slytherin for a reason. "Dumbledore's political clout has been dwindling for years, and he has used the fact that he is the guardian of the Harry Potter to maintain his control over the Wizengamot. Harry is just sick of being exploited by the old wizard. Isn't that right?"

Harry nodded his head. "If Dumbledore wants to play his little political games, he can leave me out of it."

* * *

While Fudge might be a corrupt moron, Voldemort had to admit that the wizard knew how to put on a show. His speech posthumously awarding James and Lily Potter the Order of Merlin, First Class was a delightful piece of political theater. Harry had asked beforehand if Remus Lupin was going to be honored for killing Sirius Black, but Fudge had told him no. The Minister of Magic didn't mind being associated with Harry Potter and his parents, but he wanted nothing to do with a werewolf—even if that werewolf was now safely dead.

During the ceremony Voldemort finally spotted Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy standing in the crowd. They were the reason he had written to Andromeda Tonks, asking her to attend this party with them. He needed a pureblood witch that he could trust to open negations with Lucius, since he doubted the wizard would even speak to a half-blood bastard like Vito Potter.

When Fudge was finally done Harry stood up, and said a few words about James and Lily. He even told a bad joke which got lots of polite laughs. It was a shame he was going to have to kill the boy; he had so much potential. When it was all over Harry practically ran back to his brother. His hands were shaking, so Voldemort handed him a small shot of Firewhiskey to help calm his nerves. He also noted that Dora was hitting the bottle hard tonight.

"Vito, Cissy says that Lucius will listen to Harry's offer," Andromeda told him twenty minutes later.

"Thank you for your help," Voldemort told her. "I know if must have been difficult for you to speak with your sister Narcissa again after all these years."

That comment brought a sad smile to Andromeda's face. "We should have spoken a long time ago, but we were both too proud. Besides, you are paying me."

Voldemort grabbed Harry, and they followed Andromeda into one of the small parlors off the ballroom. Once inside she cast a minor privacy charm, and then made the proper pureblood introductions.

"What do you want boy?" Lucius sneered.

"My name is Harry Potter, and I am the one who killed Voldemort," Harry said with a sneer of his own. "You do remember who he was, don't you?"

"Do not speak the Dark Lord's name," Lucius snapped. "Now what do you want?"

"I want to make a deal concerning the Black family fortune. I was named as Sirius Black's heir, but you intended to fight me in the Wizengamot, don't you?" Harry asked the older wizard.

Lucius was clearly surprised by this statement. He had probably hoped to seize the Black fortune in secret without Harry—or anyone else for that matter—knowing about it. "Sirius Black was driven insane by his time in Azkaban, therefore his last will and testament is invalid."

"Maybe, maybe not. Do you really want to start a fight with me trying to prove that?" Harry asked. "And even if you do win this case, it still might be months or even years before the goblins allow you access to the Vault. You know how much they hate it when the Ministry of Magic interferes with the internal affairs of Gringotts. I on the other hand have access to the Vault right now, and I'm willing to make a deal."

Lucius actually seemed impress. "What kind of deal?"

"If you drop your case in the Wizengamot I will keep the galleons in the Black Vault, but you get everything else," Harry answered. "That includes Grimmauld Place in London, the agricultural properties in the Midlands, the family library, and most importantly all the heirlooms—including the family tree tapestry."

"We agree to your conditions," Narcissa Malfoy said, speaking for the first time.

"Cissy!" Lucius hissed.

"Lucius, we agree. After my mother and father died, my Aunt Walburga seized all of their belongings and took them to Grimmauld Place. That awful house contains everything that is left of my family's history. Everything that is left of **Draco's** family history. If we go before the Wizengamot with this case we might lose everything. For Merlin's sake, he is Harry Potter. Do you honestly think that a majority of the Wizengamot will vote against him?"

"You should know that if I win the case I intend to burn Grimmauld Place and everything inside of it to the ground," Harry added. The two brothers had visited the townhouse earlier in the week, and Harry hated everything about it. He especially hated Kreacher's decomposing body, which they found in the kitchen sink... right where Voldemort had left it.

While the others waited, Lucius and Narcissa silently conducted an argument with their eyes. As far as Voldemort could tell his former Death Eater had two options: he could either take the deal Harry was offering, or he could never have sex with his wife again.

"Grimmauld Place and the rest... plus a million galleons," was Lucius' counteroffer.

Voldemort gave Harry a slight nod. "Done, but only if you sign the contract right now."

"I take it that you have all the necessary legal documents?" Lucius asked his sister-in-law.

"Yes, we have everything prepared," Andromeda informed him. "We will meet tomorrow at the Ministry of Magic to formally register the change in ownership—if that is acceptable for you."

"Tomorrow at ten o'clock," Lucius replied. "Don't be late Potter."

"Why are you doing this Andromeda?" Narcissa asked her sister as the two wizards signed the copious paperwork with a pair of blood quills. "Why are you here after all this time?"

"Harry and Vito offered me a standard seven-percent fee if I helped him with all the legal paperwork."

"You never cared about galleons before," Narcissa said.

Andromeda gave her sister a rueful smile. "Nymphadora has decided to ignore her parent's advice, and wants to become an Auror. If my daughter is going to have a successful life in the magical world, she will need galleons. More galleons than Ted and I can provide for her."

"So you swallowed your pride for the sake of daughter?"

"Wouldn't you do the same for Draco?"

While all of this was going on Voldemort secretly planted a rune stone in Fudge's parlor. It was identical to the one he had planted in Diagon Alley—and to the one he was going to plant at the Ministry of Magic tomorrow morning.

* * *

After the Malfoys left, Dora joined them. Andromeda quickly filled her daughter in on the detail of their meeting with Uncle Louie and Aunt Cissy, as she called them.

"So how much is in the Black Vault?" Dora asked.

"Just over three million after our deal with Uncle Louie, so your mother's legal fee is about a hundred and sixty thousands galleons after taxes," Voldemort told her. "Congratulations. You are now an independently wealthy witch, and free to pursue your dream of catching Dark Wizards professionally."

"Mother! I can't take that much."

"Nymphadora, you know that your father and I want nothing to do with the magical world. We are basically muggles who just happen to have wands. Those galleons—which after all do come from my family—are for your future. And for our grandchildren when the time comes. Now if you will please excuse Harry and me, there are some influential wizards and witches here at the party that I should introduce him to."

When Andromeda and Harry left, Dora turned to face Voldemort. He noted with some concern that her short hair was cycling through the colors of the rainbow. It was always a bad sign when she lost control of her Metamorphmagus abilities.

"This was all **your** doing, wasn't it?"

"No. My brother was Sirius Black's official heir, so ultimately it was his decision."

"Please. I love Harry to death, but we both know he doesn't go to the loo without first asking for your permission. You came up with this whole plan just because you knew I was worried about having enough galleons during my Auror training."

Voldemort was about to tell her that she was full of herself, but than he remembered a cheesy line from one of Aunt Petunia's favorite Air Supply songs. "Dora, everything I have is nothing until I give it to you."

He was expecting a nasty Hex, but instead he got a kiss. Right on the lips. Voldemort knew that Dora was under the influence of several glasses of Firewhiskey and a brand-new Vault full of galleons, but he didn't care. He would take whatever he could get.


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note**: I posted this story a few years ago under my old pen name, but later deleted it. Now I'm posting it again.

* * *

The holidays had been grueling for Voldemort. He was exhausted both magically and physically, but there was still work to be done. So he found himself searching the Hogwarts Express for the Weasley twins. They still had the Marauder's Map, and that could complicate his plans for the rest of the school year. His experience with Lucius had shown Voldemort that as long as he was trapped in his youthful body going with the carrot was more productive. At the same time he was really hoping for an excuse to use some stick on the ginger idiots.

"I have business with the Fred and George. The rest of you leave," Voldemort said when he finally found their compartment.

The three chasers from the Gryffindor Quidditch team jumped to their feet, but the boy with the dreadlocks was looking for a fight. One of the twins showed some brains, and grabbed his arm. "Lee, just give us a few minutes."

"Lee Jordan, is it? If you are thinking about insulting the Hufflepuffs during our next Quidditch match, you should think again. In fact, if you value your health I would advise you to hand the announcing duties over to someone less partisan." Voldemort could see the anger in Jordan's eyes as well as the fear. The boy left without saying a word.

"What do you want Evil Potter?" one of the twins asked. "Like the name? Our mum read that interview in the _Daily Prophet_, and she thinks you're corrupting poor little Harry Potter. That makes you the Evil Potter."

"Are you George?" Voldemort asked, but he already knew the answer. He drew his wand and magically painted a large G all over the boy's face. "There, that should make this conversation much easier."

"How did you do that Evil Potter?" Fred demanded.

"What did he do?" George asked. He transfigured his woolen hat into a mirror, and glanced at his reflection. "Take this bloody thing off my face."

"It will fade when I am done with you. Now let's get down to business." Again Voldemort drew his wand, but this time it was to transfigure four Chocolate Frog boxes into a werewolf, a rat, a dog, and a stag. The four animals were tiny but perfect in every detail, and he knew that such a feat of magic was beyond the capabilities of these two jokers.

"Allow me to introduce Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and my father Prongs. You know them better as the Marauders." With a flick of his wand the four animals transformed into tiny versions of Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, Sirius Black, and James Potter. "I would like you to return my father's map to me."

"What map are you talking about Evil Potter?" Fred asked, trying to play dumb. Voldemort's display of magical skill had impressed them, but they weren't willing to give up the prize just yet.

"The Marauder's Map. I know that you two have it, and I want it back. I also know that it is very valuable resource to a pair of troublemakers like yourselves, so I am willing to compensate you for its loss." Voldemort than reached into his robes, and tossed a bag of galleons at Fred and a notebook at George. "Five-hundred galleons, and a collection of the Marauder's more successful pranks."

George quickly began to leaf through the old notebook. "This stuff is real magic? It all works?"

"Yes, it does."

"What is the catch?" Fred asked as he fingered one of the gold galleons. "If you really wanted the Marauder's Map you could have just taken it. You and Harry are already stronger than we are, so why this deal?"

"Maybe you two aren't so hopeless after all," Voldemort said as he pulled a piece of parchment out of his pocket and handed it to him. "Do you recognize those names?"

"Most of them are the children of the Death Eaters," Fred replied as he looked over the list. "Including the ones who didn't go to Azkaban, but should have. People like Lucius Malfoy."

"Every student on that list is a child of a marked Death Eater. From now on I want you to focus your pranks exclusively on them," Voldemort told the twins. "I want you to make their lives miserable."

"Why?" George asked. "Do you think they're going to attack the Boy-Who-Lived right in the middle of Hogwarts?"

"Yes, that is exactly what I think is going to happen. It's only a matter of time before they try to kill my brother, so I'm going after them first. If I'm impressed with the quality of your pranks, I will supply you with more galleons to pay for any extra supplies you might need."

"We have to keep Harry alive anyway," George remarked. "We might as well get paid for it."

"Why do you care about my brother's safety?"

"He going marry our sister Ginny. He just doesn't know it yet."

"She has some competition," an annoyed Voldemort muttered. "Half the witches at Hogwarts fancied Harry."

"Yeah, but could any of them cast a Bat-Bogey Hex by their sixth birthday?" Fred asked.

"Your Ginny is a strong witch? That certainly puts her at the front of the queue. So, what is your answer?"

"We'll take the deal," George said after consulting with his twin behind a Privacy Ward. "The Marauder's Map is hidden back at Hogwarts, so we will return it to you tonight after the Welcoming Feast."

* * *

Since Snape had gotten away with destroying Lily Potter's portrait, he had become even more unbearable as a teacher. Hermione and Voldemort were the only two Hufflepuffs with passing grades in Potions, and the grapevine had it that the Gryffindors were doing even worse. Now that Harry had secured the Black Vault he decided something should be done about the situation.

"I will buy the potion supplies. You and Hermione can teach," he had informed his brother during the holidays.

Harry had called Hermione on the telephone, and she just loved the idea. Then someone—and Voldemort still wasn't sure who it was—got the Ravenclaws involved. They were doing better in Potions then the Hufflepuffs, but the bookworms were still eager for an opportunity to improve their grades. Professor Sprout was more than happy to provide them with a spare classroom since she personally hated Snape and the way he treated her Hufflepuffs. A few days after returning to Hogwarts the two houses gather together for their first weekly Potions Study Session.

"Everyone sit down and shut up," Voldemort barked. "My brother has been good enough to buy us some extra potions supplies, so we are going to practice brewing this week's potion **before** we head down into the dungeons to face that greasy git. (Everyone cheered this bit of immature name-calling.) Brewing potions is very dangerous. If any of you fail to take this seriously you'll be kicked-out immediately, and you wouldn't be allowed to return. Is that clear?"

Voldemort was rather enjoying himself. This was almost like the old days when everyone he met was terrified of him.

"Padma Patil and I are the best brewers in this year, so we will give a practical demonstration while the rest of you ask questions. After everyone understands the basics, Harry and Hermione will hand-out the ingredients you need to make your own potions. These ingredients cost my brother a lot of galleons. Do not waste them."

To Voldemort's surprise, their weekly Potions Study Sessions were a major success. Now that the first-years actually knew what they were suppose to do, everyone's performance in the class improved. Even Neville, who was universally considered the worst brewer at Hogwarts. Snape was too much of a self-absorbed arse to notice this turnaround, but someone else did.

"We want in," Daphne Greengrass said one morning after she and her two handmaidens had cornered them. "Almost all the Gryffindor first-years are failing Potions, and it's making me look bad to the Slytherins."

"I told everyone to keep their months shut," Voldemort hissed. All three girls took a step back, and for a second he thought he had accidentally spoken in Parseltongue.

"It was Padma, but please don't hurt her," Parvati pleaded. "She can't keep any secrets from me. I'm her twin."

"Vito isn't going to hurt anyone," Harry assured the terrified girl. "Daphne, we take our Potions Study Sessions very seriously, and we work hard every week. We also need to keep them a secret from Headmaster Dumbledore. As long as you accept those two conditions, your Gryffindors are welcome to join us."

"Wait a second. What do we get out of this?" Voldemort asked. This brother was too generous for his own good.

"What do you want?" Daphne countered.

"You three always look well-groomed, so you are going to teach the Hufflepuff girls how to style their hair," Voldemort replied.

"What are to talking about Vito?" a bewildered Harry asked.

"Megan always has her hair in a ponytail, Susan always has her hair in a French braid, Hannah always has her hair in those stupid pigtails, and Hermione..."

"...and Hermione Granger looks like she has one of Hagrid's monsters growing out of the top of her head," Lavender Brown said.

"That sounds about right. They look awful, and it reflects poorly on our house," Voldemort concluded.

"I think Megan's hair looks great," Harry growled. "You know why? Because it's not **pink**."

"Vito, isn't she a little old for you?" a smirking Daphne asked. "Don't worry boys. We will keep your little secrets. All of them. Now where is the classroom, and what time do we meet?"

* * *

After the shellacking Hufflepuff gave the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Voldemort hadn't felt much like celebrating. Professor Sprout had asked him to limit the number of players he sent to the infirmary, and that had taken a lot of the fun out of the game. Still, a 290-30 win wasn't anything to be embarrassed about.

Rather than face the Hufflepuff common room Voldemort had decided to take a swim, and his powerful Heating Charm had the water temperature at a delightfully forty degrees Celsius. Everything in his life was going well, and that made him nervous. He was still expecting Dumbledore to make a move against Vito Potter. But as the days turned into weeks and then into months, it seemed more likely that Sirius Black had taken the truth about James Potter's Unbreakable Vow with him to the grave.

"Why aren't you at the party?"

Damn. He should have placed a stronger Locking Charm on the door. "My left shoulder was sore after the match, so I wanted to take a swim in some hot water. Would you care to join me?"

Voldemort was hoping for a bit of skinny dipping, but Dora just smiled at him as if she could read his mind. Her dirty Quidditch uniform was quickly transfigured into a yellow swimming suit. She then dove into the pool, and swam over to him while still underwater.

"You played brilliantly today," she said after coming up for air.

"So did you," he replied automatically, but that wasn't really the truth. Dora was no more than an average Quidditch player, and they both knew it.

"Hermione was just telling me about your secret potions group."

"She has a big mouth," Voldemort snapped.

"I asked her about her new-and-improved hair, and the whole story just came out. You know how Hermione gets when she starts talking," Dora explained as she circled around him in the hot water. "It was very thoughtful of you to help them out like that. Adolescence isn't easy for witches."

"It isn't easy for wizards either, and I wasn't trying to be thoughtful. I just didn't like the Slytherins making fun of my fellow Hufflepuffs."

"So... you're a natural at Quidditch, you ranked first in all of your classes, and you are secretly teaching potions better than Snape does."

"Snape is a pathetic excuse for a Professor," Voldemort told her, but the direction of this conversation was starting to worry him.

"I have been watching you cast for a while now, and your magic is... beautiful. That is the only word I can use to describe it. I haven't seen anything like it before, not even from our Professors."

Now Voldemort was actually nervous. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was to kill Dora Tonks, but he would have to if she discovered the truth about his identity. "Thank you. But I've been using my wand for several years, and it's very powerful."

The witch jumped at the opportunity to take that line the wrong way. "I bet your wand is very powerful."

"Don't say things like that, Dora. You might think I'm a little boy you tease whenever you feel like it, but I'm not."

She had the grace to look ashamed. "I'm sorry Vito."

Thankfully she dropped the subject, and they swam in silence until his skin started to wrinkle. First she kissed him at Fudge's party, and now she was flirting with him. He had tried Legilimency on Dora several times, but she was a natural Occlumens like her Aunt Bellatrix. Was she just toying with him? Or was it something more? Did he want it to be something more? His old life as a bachelor had been far less confusing.

* * *

When Voldemort and Harry entered the Great Hall on April Fool's Day, they found the students staring up at the Enchanted Ceiling. Instead of showing the sky outside, the Ceiling was projecting the animated version of _The Lord of the Rings _from the nineteen-seventies. Many of the purebloods didn't know what to make of it, and the even some of the muggleborns were perplexed by the strange-looking animation.

"I don't understand, is that supposed to be Merlin or Dumbledore?" Neville asked Hermione as he pointed to the figure of Gandalf.

"He doesn't look like a house-elf," Susan said as she stared up at the blonde Legolas. "Not at all."

"They act like goblins, but they are way too tall," Megan remarked when she saw the horde of vile Orcs.

The Potter brothers shared a smile, and raised their cups of pumpkin juice in the direction of the Weasley twins—who both took a bow in return. Harry had read through the Marauder's notebook several times, and he was glad to see a repeat performance of one of his father's last and most complex pranks.

"Mr Potter. Mr Potter. You will cancel this spell at once. Do you hear me? At once," Professor McGonagall snapped.

"Do you have any proof that we did this Professor, or are you just making baseless accusations because we dislike the Headmaster?" Voldemort asked.

"Why you arrogant little toerag..."

"Dumbledore," Mad-Eye Moody shouted as he limped into the Great Hall right on schedule. "We have a major problem."

As Dumbledore gathered all the Professors together behind a Privacy Charm to hear the news, Voldemort breathed a sigh of relief. The first part of his plan had worked. Right now every Auror in the United Kingdom was headed to the Cornelius Fudge's house because seven Inferi had appeared out of nowhere.

Over the holidays Voldemort had returned to the seaside cave where he had once hidden his Horcrux. Since that Horcrux no longer existed, he decided to take the Inferi out of hibernation and put them to good use. When they attended Fudge's Winter Solstice Ball, Voldemort had placed a rune stone inside the house's defensive wards. This allowed the Inferi to arrive by Portkey. The plan had taken a huge amount of work—which had to be done at night to avoid Harry's suspicion—but he had pulled it off.

Now that Fudge was causing a panic, the second stage of Voldemort's plan began. Fourteen more Inferi arrived by Portkey at the Ministry of Magic. This Portkey was guided by another rune stone he had left in the Atrium when they met Lucius to sign over the ownership of Grimmauld Place. The few Aurors who weren't already at Fudge's house now had to defend the Ministry.

Once the Aurors were running around the United Kingdom like headless chickens, Voldemort went ahead with stage three. The last twenty-one Inferi he had originally created were sent to Diagon Alley. When they visited Madame Malkin's to buy new robes he had placed a rune stone in the Ally. All three attacks had occurred while Vito Potter sitting in the middle of the Great Hall, which gave him a perfect alibi.

Give the scope of the disaster Dumbledore had to responded. It was his duty as the Chief Warlock to protect the innocent people shopping in Diagon Alley that morning, so he created a Portkey right there at the High Table. Mad-Eye Moody, Snape, McGonagall, and Flitwick all vanish in a flash of light along with Dumbledore.

Now it was time the _pièce de résistance_.

"It's a Death Eater!" a student screamed as a tall figure wearing a black robe and a white mask entered the Great Hall.

"Tell Dumbledore I have the Philosopher's Stone, and soon my Master shall return!" the Death Eater yelled as mass panic spread among the students.

Professor Sprout was a fine herbologist but a poor duelist, and Death Eater easily dodged her spells. Voldemort had placed poor Marcus Flint under the Imperius Curse a few days ago when he stole the Philosopher's Stone from the Mirror of Erised. Now the wizard jumped on his broom, and made a quick escape.

Flint had been given orders to fly out to the Forbidden Forest where he would be met by Ouroboros. The basilisk would consume his body and the fake Philosopher's Stone that he was carrying. The **real** Stone was safely hidden down in the Chamber of Secrets, and once again Vito Potter had a perfect alibi.

_Happy April Fool's Day, Dumbledore,_ Voldemort thought as he watched the chaos swirl around him.


	14. Chapter 14

Author's Note: I posted this story a few years ago under my old pen name, but later deleted it. Now I'm posting it again.

* * *

Voldemort had been waiting a lifetime to read the headline in today's edition of the _Daily Prophet_. "Dumbledore Sacked as Chief Warlock and Supreme Mugwump." Finally the magical world was waking-up to what a fraud the Headmaster was, and stripping him of his power base. Hopefully it wasn't too late for Voldemort to reverse the damage he had caused over the last century.

The political attack on Dumbledore had started at the International Confederation of Wizards. After six-hundred years Nicolas Flamel had a lot of friends around the world who owned him a lot of favors. When the famous alchemist learned about the theft of the Philosopher's Stone he used those favors to arrange for the election of a new Supreme Mugwump. Flamel and his wife had just been sentenced to death by someone they long considered a friend, and they wanted a pound of flesh before the end.

After this stunning blow on the international level, Dumbledore's many enemies smelled blood. Lead by Lucius Malfoy, the pureblood faction made common cause with those who were outraged by yesterday's attacks. It was clear to everyone that the Inferi were a just a diversion to draw attention away from Hogwarts. Still, the abominations had sent dozens to St Mungo's, and caused an told amount of property damage.

And it was all Dumbledore's fault, since he alone had decided to move the Philosopher's Stone from Gringotts to Hogwarts. His decision had placed hundreds of students at risk; students whose parents were currently members of the Wizengamot. Lucius had arranged for a no-confidence vote against Dumbledore last night, and the former Death Eater won a lopsided victory.

"Auntie says there is going to be an election today, and that Lucius Malfoy will be chosen as the next Chief Warlock," Susan told them at breakfast after she received a letter from her Aunt Amelia. "Draco was awful before, but can you imagine what he'll be like if his father is the Chief Warlock?"

"My Grams says that Malfoy is making a lot of donations," Neville said. He then added in a whisper: "That means he's bribing the other members of Wizengamot."

"Auntie always said that the Malfoys weren't nearly as rich as everyone thinks they are, so I wondered where Lucius got enough galleons to bribe so many wizards?" Susan asked.

Harry looked over at his brother with a terrible look of guilt on his face. He knew exactly where Lucius had gotten the galleons to buy the office of the Chief Warlock: from the deal he had made with the Potter brothers. Luckily the only outsiders who knew about that deal were Dora and her mother Andromeda.

"What will happen if Draco's father wins?" Hermione asked. "Will they pass laws against the muggleborns like Justine and me?"

"Maybe," Neville told her. "Grams always said that Malfoy was a Death Eater, and that he belongs in Azkaban with all the other scum."

Voldemort was too busy plotting to be insulted by Neville's comment. Right now Dumbledore would be looking for ways to salvage his political position, so he would need to secure Harry's support by any means necessary. Most likely the Headmaster would try to lay a guilty trip on the boy by telling him that the interview he gave to the _Daily Prophet_ was responsible for Lucius' rise to power. It wasn't true of course, but Harry was naive enough to believe it. Dumbledore would attempt to use his brother's guilt to control him, but Voldemort wasn't going to let that happen.

* * *

"I think you both know why I called you here," Dumbledore said two days later.

Professor Sprout had escorted them up here to the Headmaster's office, but the stone gargoyle had block her access when she tried to follow them. So Dumbledore didn't want any witnesses. Good, because Voldemort didn't want any either.

"Actually Sir, we have no idea why we were called here. Did we do something wrong?" Voldemort asked. It was rare, but there were times when pretending to be an eleven year-old was fun. He could tell that Dumbledore's blood pressure was rising just from the vein pulsating on his forehead.

"Yes, you both did something wrong. Terribly wrong. That interview you gave to Rita Skeeter was very damaging to Hogwarts."

Voldemort wasn't going to let that one slide. "Sir, don't you mean it was damaging to you personally. Or do you view yourself as synonymous with Hogwarts?"

"Mr Potter, you are very intelligent for a boy your age." Technically that was a complement, Dumbledore's tone clearly made it a threat.

"I'm intelligent enough to know that Harry's interview with Rita Skeeter isn't the reason you are no longer the Chief Warlock. You sealed your fate the moment you brought the Philosopher's Stone inside the wards of Hogwarts."

"I disagree," Dumbledore said.

"Well, you have made a lot of mistakes in the past few years, and that is just one more to add to the pile," Voldemort replied.

Now the old wizard was angry, and he wanted them to see that anger and be intimidated by it. "Do you two realize that a former Death Eater is now the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot? Harry's life is in great danger, and that is a direct result of your rash actions during the Winter Solstice Ball."

"If Lucius Malfoy is such a threat then why wasn't he sent to Azkaban at the end of the war?" Voldemort knew the answer to that question, but he was curious to see what kind of lie the Headmaster would tell them.

By now Dumbledore was completely ignoring Harry's presence to focus on his more dangerous brother. Of course that is exactly what Voldemort wanted, and it was the reason why he had been goading the wizard since the moment he walked into the office. Now Dumbledore fell right into the trap.

"It is clear to me now that you are a negative influence on your brother, and one that I am no longer willing to tolerate. I'm afraid I"m going to have to expel you from Hogwarts."

"**You will never take Vito away from me!**"

Back during their muggle school days Voldemort and Harry had watched a documentary about the eruption of a volcano in the United States. The pressure inside the underground magma chamber grew and grew until it is powerful enough to destroy an entire mountain of solid rock. That is exactly what Harry was like in Dumbledore's office that day: a magical volcano.

The build-up of pressure had started when Voldemort removed the Memory Charm Dumbledore had placed on his brother to hide the destruction of Lily Potter's portrait and the Prophecy. When Harry remembered the truth he was so furious that Voldemort had to seize his wand. It had taken him hours to convince the boy to hear Dumbledore out before they took any rash actions they might regret later on.

The Headmaster had misread Harry's silence as fear, when in reality it was rage. Threatening Vito was more than Harry could stand, so that rage finally erupted. When it did the magic had no focus or organization. It was simply raw power.

There were no clever spells or obscure curses for Dumbledore to shield against—just a wave of pure magic that lifted him off his chair and slammed him against the wall. At the same time Voldemort magically froze all portraits in the office, and decapitated Fawkes with a Severing Curse. The phoenix was consumed by flames, preventing Dumbledore from escaping.

Harry's attack had drained him, but he wasn't done. "Expelliarmus!"

Dumbledore was disorientated, and his wand flew from his shaky hand. Harry quickly pick it up off the floor, and snapped it in two. Now that his opponent was disarmed, Harry moved in to administer a muggle-style beating. The frail wizard was well over a hundred years-old, and no match for a vicious eleven year-old.

As his brother was letting off some steam, Voldemort was examining his wand. The moment Harry snapped the Elder Wand something had change. The wand was now throbbing with a new form of magic. Voldemort looked down, and saw the Thestral hair sticking out of the broken Elder Wand. His wand also had a Thestral hair core. Had the unique magic of the Deathly Hallows transmigrated? Was there now a new Elder Wand?

The answer to that question would have to wait. If he didn't stop Harry soon, he would beat Dumbledore to death. Voldemort didn't have any moral objections to that, but it would cause a number of political problems down the road. He Stunned both wizards, and then tied them securely to a pair of transfigured thrones.

"Ennervate."

Dumbledore quickly realized that he was in a weak tactical position, and tried to bluff his way out of it. "I'm sorry to say that you will both be expelled for this attack, and you might even be sent to Azkaban. I will of course speak at your trial, and ask the Wizengamot for mercy."

Voldemort responded to this statement with a right jab to Dumbledore's face. He had been waiting years and years to do that.

"Shut up. We know about the Memory Charm, and we know about the destruction of Lily Potter's portrait. But most importantly we know about the Prophecy linking Harry to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. So stop bluffing, and start over again."

"How could you possible break my Memory Charm?"

"Dumbledore, I just kicked your arse," Harry sneered. "You might have been powerful once, but that was a long time ago."

"I have to agree," Voldemort remarked. "You are old and weak. In fact Harry had no problem snapping your wand."

"The Elder Wand had been destroyed? Do you have any concept of what you have done?"

That earned him a left cross to the face.

"We have had enough of your questions; now you will answer ours. What does the Prophecy said?" Voldemort asked that question since he knew it was an excellent place to start the interrogation. Seeing that Dumbledore wasn't going to answer he added: "I don't think you understand the gravity of the situation. You have broken at least a dozen laws, and you cast a Memory Charm on Harry Potter. Those kind of crimes can't be swept under the rug, not by a wizard who is no longer the Chief Warlock or the Supreme Mugwump."

"Screw this. Let's just called Director Bones on the Floo, and let her sort this all out. The bastard is going to Azkaban no matter what kind of bullshit he comes up with." Harry was a natural at playing the bad cop, as the muggles say.

Voldemort watched as Dumbledore finally realized that his actions had consequences. His life was over the minute Director Bones learned what he had done to Harry. There was also the threat posed by Lucius and his pet Minister of Magic. Even more painful for Dumbledore would be the harsh judgment of history. His only chance for survival was to regain Harry's trust. How was he going to do that?

"The Prophecy states that only Harry has the power to defeat Voldemort when he returns."

"Are you stupid?" Harry asked. "I already killed Voldemort."

"No, you did not. That is what you must understand. Voldemort is still alive. I am certain of it. And when he returns only you will be able to defeat him," Dumbledore explained.

"What about Snape?" Voldemort asked. "Why did you let him get away with destroying Lily Potter's portrait?"

"Severus is the only one who can act as a spy when Voldemort returns. He is too important to go to Azkaban. You must see that."

"He is so bloody stupid," Harry muttered. "Everyone knows Snape was a spy during the last war, so why would You-Know-Who trust him again?"

"There are things you do not understand about Severus Snape, but it is not my place to tell you," Dumbledore replied.

Voldemort walked over to the fireplace and grabbed a handful of Floo powder. "You are still lying to us, and that leaves me with no choice but contact Director Bones."

"Wait, you must believe me. I will do anything, even take an Unbreakable Vow," Dumbledore pleaded.

"I think we should hear what he has to say," Voldemort told his brother. "But only after he takes an Unbreakable Vow."

Harry reluctantly accepted this advice—just as he always did. The next few hours were a nightmare for Voldemort. Dumbledore knew practically everything about his previous life as Tom Riddle: the truth about his mother and father, his violence towards the other orphans, and the first several murders he had committed. Worst of all were his suspicions about the possible existence of the Horcruxes. Dumbledore didn't have any hard evidence, but he did know about the Gaunt Ring and the Hufflepuff Cup.

"Did you both note how Tom Riddle's face had been distorted by the time he applied to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?" Dumbledore asked after they exited the Pensieve. "It is clear to me that he underwent several dark rituals by that date, and I believe these rituals allowed him to survive the destruction of his original body in Godric's Hollow."

"You believe that You-Know-Who is alive, but you don't have any actually proof," Voldemort pointed out.

"I am telling you the truth. The Unbreakable Vow I have taken allows me to do nothing less," Dumbledore replied. "If I am right, you can not afford to turn me over to the Ministry of Magic. You will need my help against Lucius Malfoy—and against Voldemort when he returns."

Even Harry saw the sense in that argument, but he was still furious. "You given us a nice history lesson about You-Know-Who, but what other kind of help are you offering us?"

"What do you have in mind?" Dumbledore asked.

"Well, we want this Pensieve for starters. It will be really useful when it comes to dueling, since Vito is always asking me what mistakes I made. Being able to watch a duel afterwards will make correcting those mistakes a lot easier," Harry said. "Vito also likes books, so we will take your entire library. You are old and I doubt if you can even read anymore. And we want the phoenix too."

Dumbledore wasn't happy about any of this, and the last request going too far. "Fawkes is a sentient being. I can't give him to you."

Harry responded by walking over to the golden perch, and digging the baby phoenix out of the hot ash. Then he handed Fawkes to his brother. "I already have a familiar, so consider this is a late Christmas present."

"What about the Prophecy? Do you know what this special power Harry is supposed to have is?" Voldemort asked as he studied the little magical bird in his hands. After years of research into Harry's **Power** he still had no idea what it suppose to be, but maybe Dumbledore had found something during his research.

"I believe it is the power of Love," Dumbledore said in his most sanctimonious voice. "Tom Riddle knows nothing of love, while Harry was shown us today how powerful his heart truly is."

Instead of laughing—which was Voldemort first reaction—Harry began to nod this head. "Maybe you're right. I love Vito, and he has taught me twice as much as all the Professors at Hogwarts combined. You-Know-Who never loved anyone, did he?"

On that unsettling note Harry and Dumbledore agreed to a peace treaty of sorts. No one would learn about what had happened in the Headmaster's office today. Harry would continue with his education here at Hogwarts, while Dumbledore searched for signs of Voldemort's return. Both wizards agreed to a political truce, which meant no more interviews with Rita Skeeter. Finally Dumbledore agreed that Snape would be barred from speaking to the Potter brothers, even during their Potions class.

Voldemort noted with disgust that he had taught Harry a bit too well. This treaty made a great deal of sense, so there was no reason for him to object to it. Instead he found himself in an alliance with Albus Dumbledore. It wasn't going to last long; not if Voldemort had anything to say about it.

* * *

The last event of note before the end of the school year was the Quidditch match between Hufflepuff and Slytherin. Since the loss of their captain Marcus Flint, everyone knew that the Snakes were going to lose—the only question was by how much. Feelings in the school were running high. Both Gryffindor and Ravenclaw were eager to see the arrogant Slytherins taught a lesson.

The Hufflepuff Quidditch team did not disappoint. After Voldemort had taken out the Slytherin's entire starting lineup, he sent the Bludger at Cedric several times to prevent him from catching the Golden Snitch too early in the match. Harry and the other Chasers had a field day against Slytherin's backup Keeper, and the finally score was 710-20.

Voldemort was in such a good mood afterwards he was willing to suffer the indignity of playing _Ob-la-di, Ob-la-da _in the Hufflepuff common room. In his opinion it was one of the Beetles' weaker efforts.

Harry wasn't done yet though. "Our next song was written by the second greatest guitarist ever to have come out of Surrey. It's called _Wonderful Tonight_, and it's a slow song so I want all the couples out on the dance floor," he told the raucous crowd.

Voldemort just shook his head. Buying Harry a bass all those years ago had been a dreadful mistake. Even worse was the fact that he never allowed his brother to cover any Clapton songs (the boy just didn't understand the blues) which meant he had to sing. The greatest Dark Lord in centuries singing to a common room full of Hufflepuffs. How had it come to this? At least it gave him a chance to show off his brilliant guitar playing.

_It's late in the evening _

_She's wondering what clothes to wear..._

When he finished the sappy romantic ballad a drunk Dora came up to the stage, and grabbed him by the hand. "Vito Potter, I have to know if it's real. One way or the other, I have to know." She then dragged him off to the nearest broom closet.

Ten minutes later she knew all right. Voldemort also knew that next time he was going to cast a cushioning charm, because his knees were killing him.

"How in the name of Merlin did you learn to do that?" Dora asked as she looked down at him in amazement.

As much as Voldemort wanted to take the credit for his performance, the truth was that he had a gift. All he had to do was recite the Saint Crispin's Day speech from _Henry V _in Parseltongue, and it always did the trick.

"I'm not sure... but I could only do it for you," he said a slurred voice. It was a gift, but it did come at a price: his tongue felt like it was made out of lead at the moment.

"Vito, we can never do... this again. And you can never tell anyone. Not even Harry," Dora said nervously. The reality of what just happened was starting to break through her Firewhiskey-induced haze.

"Please Dora," Voldemort said as he gently draped her bare leg over his shoulder. If he wanted to avoid a serious case of neck pain in the morning he needed to find a better angle. "I can tell that you enjoyed that, so of course we're going to do it again."


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note**: I posted this story a few years ago under my old pen name, but later deleted it. Now I'm posting it again.

* * *

"Hello Dora," said a voice without a body.

"Vito, we're right in the middle of the Ministry of Magic," the young Auror trainee hissed, and it was true. They were currently surrounded by a dozen Aurors and a dozen more trainees, several stories below the streets of London. "What in the name of Merlin are you doing here?"

"What are you worried about? I cast a Disillusionment Charm on myself, and I also have Harry's Invisibility Cloak. No one can see me."

"Mad-Eye Moody could."

"I could walk right up to that old geezer, and pick his pocket without him knowing a thing," Voldemort boasted.

"What do you want?"

"I'm here to give you your birthday present. I know it's a week earlier, but after the first of September I'll be trapped at Hogwarts. Just indulged me this once. After all, I've been indulging you all summer. On a daily basis, in fact."

"I can't help it if my Auror training is so stressful," Dora complained. "Besides you swore to me that you would keep my nightly visits to Little Whinging a secret."

"And I have. Just take the Floo to the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade, and meet me outside. I promise that you will love your present."

As they made their way up to the Atrium and its many fireplaces, Dora's hair lengthened and turned a dull gray. Her beautiful face aged as well, but rather than be repulsed by this process Voldemort was fascinated. The witch had no idea how extraordinary being a Metamorphmagus made her, and he was determined not to let that potential go to waste.

"Have you been limiting the change in your body mass like I suggested?"

Voldemort had a theory that Dora's increasing clumsiness was being caused by the constant change in her center of gravity during her Auror training. It had to be having a negative effect on her sense of balance, and that was dangerous. A clumsy Auror wouldn't last long against a talented Death Eater.

"I've been trying to, and it does help. But my instructors want to test the outer limits of my Metamorphmagus abilities."

"You should probably keep certain aspects of your abilities a secret, especially from the Ministry of Magic," Voldemort told her as they reached the Atrium.

As Dora vanished into one of the fireplaces, Voldemort made it from London to Hogsmeade with a single Apparition. It was a stain on his still-incomplete magic, but he needed to make sure the flaw he had created in the Ministry's Anti-Apparition ward was still in place.

"Take the High Street towards Dervish & Banges," Voldemort whispered to Dora when she came out of the Three Broomsticks. He was rewarded with a nasty glare.

"You know, I have always loved that little cottage over there," she remarked when they reached the far edge of the magical village.

"I know, that's why I bought it for you," Voldemort said.

That stopped Dora in her tracks. "What did you just say?"

"I said that I bought that cottage for you as a birthday present. Come on inside, and have a look around your new home," Voldemort said as he drew a small ritual knife. "But first we have to key you into the wards. I just need a small amount of blood."

The young Auror trainee was too shocked to object, which was a good thing since the wards were illegal. Voldemort didn't believe in taking unnecessary risks when it came to his personal living arrangements.

"Vito, what in Merlin's name have you done?" Dora asked as they walked in the front door.

Voldemort had the cottage completely rebuilt and refurnished over the summer, and to his eye the results were aesthetically pleasing. Not too old-fashioned, but not too muggle either. Fawkes trilled a welcoming note in their direction from his new perch near the fireplace. Voldemort kept waiting for the phoenix to return to Dumbledore, but it seemed happy to remain with Dora.

"I guess this does require an explanation. As you know I am ranked first in my classes by a wide margin."

At the beginning of last year Voldemort had tried to hide his tremendous genius, but it was impossible for him to act like an average first-year student. Even with all the intentional mistakes he made, there was no possibility of anyone surpassing him. Not even Hermione Granger.

"Because of my ranking Professor Sprout and Headmaster Dumbledore assigned me an extra-credit project this year. I'm going to organize and catalog the entire Potter, Dumbledore, and Black libraries."

"I thought Harry gave the Black family library to Lucius Malfoy," Dora commented.

"That's what Lucius believes too," Voldemort said with a sinister smile. "Harry and I pilfered the more valuable books before he signed the rest of them over to the Malfoys. This whole project is going to take a lot of time and effort, so Dumbledore gave me this Time-Turner. It's one of the special twenty-four hour models, which means I will be repeating an entire day every day. Does that make any sense to you?"

Dora looked at his tiny hourglass necklace with horror. "Dumbledore gave a twelve year-old a Time-Turner? Has he finally gone mental?"

"I think you know from personal experience that I'm no ordinary twelve year-old. From very personal experience."

That pointed comment brought a deep blush to Dora's cheeks. "Fine, you are not an ordinary twelve year-old. But what does any of this have to do with **you** buying me a cottage?"

"First of all, I did not technical buy it. You are the legal owner. Harry loaned you the galleons, and as a result you now have a ten-year mortgage with the First Bank of Potter. You do know what a mortgage is, don't you?" Voldemort asked.

"Of course I know what a mortgage is. My father is a muggleborn, and we live in the muggle world for the most part. But what gives you the right to do any of this?" Dora asked in a dangerous tone.

"Well, I knew that you wanted to buy this place, and I knew that it was for sale. I also knew you hate living with your parents, and that you were looking for a place to live. Your new mortgage payment is less than the rent of an average Diagon Alley apartment, but instead of enriching some pureblood landlord you will now be building equity. It all makes perfect sense when you think about it," Voldemort explained.

Dora just buried her head in her hands. "Vito Potter, you are twelve. You can't go around doing things will this."

"Nonsense. The rules don't apply to people like us. We are the makers of manners."

"Not so fast," Dora said as she looked up at him. "I can see what your real plan is. You want me living in Hogsmeade this year because with that Time-Turner were will be two Vito Potters running around Hogwarts. I imagine that one of them will be looking for a place to stay at night, since the bed in your dorm will already be occupied.

"Well... there might to a secret underground passageway in your new basement which leads up to kitchen in Hogwarts. And I will admit that passageway might come in handy this year."

In truth spending every other night in bed with Dora was just an added bonus for Voldemort, and the ruse about the libraries was just an excuse for Dumbledore to provide him with a Time-Turner. He had three major research projects that were going to require his attention this year.

The first was his ongoing study of Harry's unique **Power**. Voldemort was hoping that adolescence might bring about some change in the boy's magic, but that prospect seemed unlikely. The second project was the Philosopher's Stone. He had already produced a sizable quantity of gold, but he was nervous about working with the legendary Elixir of Life. Voldemort planed on conducting both short-term and long-term experiments on animals before he moved on to clinical trials with actual human beings. Luckily the Chamber of Secrets was large enough to hold a well-stocked laboratory.

His last research project was the most troubling. In theory he now processed all three of the Deadly Hallows. The changes in his wand had been permanent. It was now more powerful and more responsive to his magic, but was it truly the Elder Wand? Then there was the Resurrection Stone, but he hated even thinking about that bloody rock. All this work would require a great deal of time, hence his need for a Time-Turner.

Dora closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Vito, I can't deny that I enjoy the time we spend together, because we both know that I really do. But this thing we have—whatever it is—can't last. I'm too old, and you're too young. Far too young."

"Don't you see, that is the real beauty of my plan. If I use the Time-Turner continuously for the next six years, by the time I graduate from Hogwarts we will be the same age."

_At least the body of Vito Potter will be the same age_, Voldemort thought to himself. And the quicker this new body matured, the happier he would be.

"You would really spend six years working alone on research projects just to be with me?"

"Dora, I would do anything to be with you." That was his teenage hormones talking, not his brain.

"And you bought me the best cottage in Hogsmeade as a birthday present."

"You deserve the best of everything." That was Voldemort's personal credo. "Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

"Vito Potter, you are the greatest boyfriend in the world," Dora declared with genuine tears in her eyes.

* * *

As Voldemort watched Harry and Hermione coo at each other on the Express, he didn't know if he could make it to Hogwarts without vomiting. This was all Gwenog Jones' fault. Megan's famous Quidditch-playing Aunt told the witch that she was too young to be in a relationship. As a result Megan had unceremoniously dumped the Boy-Who-Lived on the last day of the school year. Harry had spent the next two weeks moping around Number Four, and telling his brother that his life was over.

Then in July they started attending the summer meetings of the A-Level Club at Justin's house in London. His father Sebastian Finch-Fletchley had hired several outstanding tutors, and everyone learned a great deal. During these meetings Voldemort also learned that Granger had finally gotten over her crush on the smart Potter brother, and had moved on to the cute Potter brother. The two lovebirds spent the rest of the summer snogging each other as often as possible. Voldemort hadn't been so tempted to use the Cruciatus Curse in years.

It almost made him wish they had missed the Hogwarts Express today. That strange house-elf had visited Harry earlier in the summer, and it had just tried to block the entrance to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters this morning. Voldemort had ripped through the barrier with ease, but the house-elf's actions were unnerving. What could possibly cause the creature to betray its unknown master? Next time it appeared he was hoping to capture it, but house-elves were elusive and their magic was unpredictable.

Suddenly the door to their compartment slammed open, and in walked a pair of tiny witches. One had long blonde hair, and large gray eyes which matched his own. She was being dragged along by the other witch who was obviously a Weasley—with her red hair and freckled face she couldn't be anything else. The ginger was clearly the catalyst behind this reckless invasion, and Voldemort could smell the adrenaline pouring off her skin. She looked around the compartment, but then quickly locked eyes with Harry.

"I'm Ginny Weasley and we are going to get married on my seventeenth birthday. This is Luna Lovegood, and she is going to marry your brother Vito. You can tell they are meant for each other because they have the same colored eyes." Then Weasley saw that Harry was holding Hermione's hand. "Who are you? My stupid brothers told me that the Welsh hag dumped poor Harry."

"I am not Megan Jones, I am Hermione Granger. And Harry is **my** boyfriend, so you will not be marrying him." Granger's voice was so cold it could have use it to freeze the entire Black Lake.

Ginny studied Hermione with a look of intense concentration. "I heard about you. My brother Ron said you were boring bookworm with bad hair. You can't be Harry Potter's girlfriend because he needs someone better than you. Someone like me."

Before Hermione could go ballistic, Luna Lovegood began speaking in a strange sing-song voice: "Ginny, I can't marry Vito Potter."

"Why not? He isn't as great as Harry, but there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with him."

"He is already married," the blonde replied.

Susan, Hannah, and Justin had been watching this little drama unfold with huge smiles on their faces. Now they all burst out laughing. "No Luna Lovegood, Vito only wishes that he was married," Hannah told her.

"Yeah, Vito is totally and completely in love with a witch called Tonks," Susan added. "He thinks they are Soul Mates."

"Nymphadora Tonks?" Ginny asked. "She went out with my brother Charlie, and you like her? That is so disgusting."

Everyone thought that comment was funny, although Voldemort had no idea why. It was fortunate for Weasley that her one of her twin brothers chose that moment to yank her out of the train compartment. The little witch would never know now close she came to a long and painful death.

"Ginny, what did we tell you about Evil Potter?" Fred asked his little sister.

"You said to always stay away from him, but he doesn't look scary to me." That was all they heard before Fred cast a Silencing Charm. He then began pushing his sister down the corridor.

"Sorry about that Evil Potter. Ginny's a bit unhinged when it comes to her hero. She has been planning her wedding to Harry Potter for years now," George told the Hufflepuffs, who still couldn't stop laughing.

Voldemort wanted to retain at least a shred of dignity, so he just ignored them. "Are you two ready for the Welcoming Feast?"

"We're ready, but are you sure she's going to be there?"

"I'm certain of it."

"What was that all about?" Harry asked after George left.

"We prepared a little surprise for the Welcoming Feast. Trust me, you're going to enjoy it," Voldemort explained. "So, what do you think of your future wife?"

* * *

The sorting was only of no real interest to Voldemort this year, but he did pay attention to the fates of the Lovegood and Weasley. Luna asked for Ravenclaw, but the Enchanted Ceiling sent her to Hufflepuff. He had never heard the Sorting Hat speak to a student with such warmth before. He would have to sit down and have a chat with Luna Lovegood—but only after Daphne and her handmaidens did something about her stringy hair. It was simple ghastly.

Voldemort assumed that Weasley would follow the rest of her ginger clan into Gryffindor, but it was not to be. To the shock of her brothers, Ginny was sorted to Slytherin. She put up a valiant fight, but the Sorting Hat was adamant about its choice. It was a strange decision given the girl's courageous performance on the Hogwarts Express, and he made a mental note to keep an eye on her this year.

"It gives me great pleasure to introduce our new Professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts, Gilderoy Lockhart," Dumbledore said to the thunderous applause of the witches of Hogwarts.

"His books are absolutely brilliant," Hermione gushed to her fellow Hufflepuff witches, much to the annoyance of her boyfriend.

"Vito, what do you think about Professor Lockhart and his books?" Harry asked in a sour tone.

"He is an entertaining writer, but we will have to see how he does as a teacher. I think we are going to end-up missing old Mad-Eye before too long," Voldemort replied, and to his amazement he actually meant it. The disfigured Auror might be insane, but he could teach his students how to duel.

"It is also my pleasure to introduce you to our new Professor for the History of Magic, Narcissa Malfoy," Dumbledore said as he gestured to the tall and beautiful blonde witch seated at the High Table.

Then it started. First it was the distinctive wolf-whistle that every boy learns to use when he sees a pretty girl. But it was impossible to determine who making the noise. The whistles were followed by lewd catcalls demanding various sexual favors. Everyone was looking for the culprits, but the voices seemed to come out of nowhere. Soon the Great Hall was in an uproar as Draco fled in tears.

Narcissa Malfoy's appointment to Hogwarts was clearly the first salvo from the new Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. Dumbledore's control of Hogwarts was his last source of political power. Lucius needed a trusted agent here at school, and who was better to serve as that agent than his own wife? Narcissa's motives for becoming a Professor was probably different. News had spread of the nasty pranks the Weasley twins had played on the Slytherins last year, and Draco would need her protection.

Voldemort was working towards open warfare between the Slytherins and the rest of the school, so this humiliating Welcoming Feast was just the start for Narcissa. After about a minute he sent a signal to the Weasley twins, and the rude cacophony suddenly stopped.

"Professor Malfoy, welcome back to Hogwarts," Dumbledore said dryly.


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note**: I posted this story a few years ago under my old pen name, but later deleted it. Now I'm posting it again.

* * *

"Weasley, wake-up."

"Where the bloody hell am I?" the ginger yelled. His reaction was understandable, since he was floated in the middle of the Chamber of Secrets, stark naked. "I'm going to kill Fred and George this time!"

"I'm afraid that your brothers are the least of your concerns."

"Vito Potter, is that you? What are you doing here? Where are we?" Percy asked. "Can you get me down?"

Voldemort held up an old notebook. It was his Diary Horcrux. "Where exactly did you get this?"

"That's none of your concern Potter. Now get me down."

"_**Ouroboros**_!" Voldemort hissed, and the great basilisk slowly emerged from Salazar Slytherin's statue.

"_**Young One, you know how much I dislike the taste of wizards**_."

"_**You don't have to eat him Ouroboros, you just have to scare him**_." Voldemort told his temperamental friend.

"You are a Parseltongue?" Percy asked. "That's impossible."

"If it was impossible than the basilisk would have killed you by now. Tell me how you came into possession of this Diary?" Voldemort asked again. He wanted to cast a Cruciatus Curse on the Gryffindor, but he wasn't sure if he was going to kill him. That meant there couldn't be any physical evidence for a Healer to find later on.

Percy was afraid, but he was still more afraid of someone else. "I can't tell you who gave me the Diary. Please just let me go. I swear I won't tell anyone about this."

"Do you know why I stripped you naked Weasley? Because I am going to cast a Bubble-Headed Charm on you, and then I am going to feed you to this basilisk—while you are still alive. It will take hours, maybe even days for its digestive acids to consume your flesh, and you will be conscious until the very end. Is that how you want to die? Being slowly and painfully dissolved in the stomach of a monster?"

"It was Lucius Malfoy. He gave me the Diary."

"Why would someone as important as Malfoy associate himself with a blood traitor like you?" Voldemort asked.

"I went to him—I offered to spy on my father and on Headmaster Dumbledore. I'm going to be Head Boy next year, so I will be in a position to overhear important information that Malfoy might want," Percy explained.

"I find that hard to believe. Why would a noble Gryffindor betray his father, and his father's most important political patron?"

"What has being Dumbledore's servant ever gotten my father?" Percy replied bitterly. "The Headmaster is a spent force, and it is only a matter of time until Lucius Malfoy is running the United Kingdom. I have to make my own plans for the future, and they don't include Albus Dumbledore."

"Why did Lucius give you this Diary?"

"It was a gift. The Diary is enchanted. It absorbs my words, and then responses appear. I've learned all sorts of thing by writing in that Diary. It is extremely intelligent, more so than any of the professors here at Hogwarts."

"Yes, that is certainly true," Voldemort muttered. "Why did you try to open the Chamber of Secrets?"

That question brought a look of confusion to Percy's face. "The Chamber of Secrets? That doesn't really exist. It's just an old myth they tell the first-years."

"Weasley, where do you think we are right now? The Diary wasn't a gift, it was a weapon. A weapon that would have destroyed Dumbledore once and for all. A weapon that would have eventually killed **you** as well."

"The Diary was going to kill me? Why would Lucius want to do that?" Percy asked.

The boy was intelligent and ambitious, but he was also painfully naive. "You have two options. Option number one is death."

"I will take option number two."

"Good. With all the work I have to do this year, I will need a competent research assistant. You will write your father a letter telling him that you met a witch, and have left Hogwarts to be with her. Tell him you will be traveling to... Asia. That sounds nice and vague."

"My mum will go spare if I write a letter like that."

"Perhaps, but your father and your siblings will be very proud of you for finally growing a backbone. Or you prefer I can send Molly Prewett Weasley the remains of your mutilated body one piece at a time? Either choice is acceptable to me."

"You are **not** Vito Potter. Who are you really?" the boy asked in a terrified voice.

Voldemort just smiled. "You will refer to me as... My Lord."

* * *

After being taught by a werewolf and a Longbottom, Professor Malfoy was a bitter disappointment. All she did was regurgitate the Ministry-approved curriculum from their textbooks. Only one fact kept the students from falling asleep during the History of Magic. Every one-hundredth second Narcissa's robes briefly became transparent. The effect was so quick that the witch didn't even notice it, but every wizard in the class sure did. The Weasley twins had provide them all with wanking material for the next few months. But it wasn't enough.

Even after absorbed the Diary Horcrux, Voldemort had still been filled with a sense of overpowering rage towards Lucius. He had given the man one of his most prized possessions—a piece of his very soul—and he had thrown it away in a witless political plot. The fact that Lucius didn't understand the true significance of the Diary was no excused for his betrayal. Simple pranks like transparent robes were no longer enough of a punishment for the Malfoy family. They needed to truly suffer.

It was during their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class that a solution came to Voldemort. After only five minutes of listening of Gilderoy Lockhart he lost patience with the wizard, and performed a brutal Legilimency scan on him. The new Professor doubled-over in pain, and had to dismiss his confused students early. So, Lockhart was a fraud, and he had only taken the DADA job as a means of selling more of his books. Who better to make a cuckold out of Lucius Malfoy than a worthless twit like that?

As Voldemort began planning his latest plot he made his way down to the Kitchen. He knew that Dumbledore still kept an eye on Vito Potter, but he had multiple contingency plans ready if something went wrong. After he was certain there were no hidden watchers present, he met his future self—who had just spent the day down in the Chamber of Secrets. This other Voldemort just winked at him as he left to join Harry up in the Great Hall.

"Here is dinner and breakfast, just as you ordered," one of the house-elves said as it handed him a large picnic basket. At the beginning of the year Dumbledore had instructed the creatures to provide him with whatever extra food he required.

Voldemort then entered the secret passage way to Dora's cottage, took out his Time-Turner, and traveled one day into the past. After a short underground broom ride, he was preparing dinner when Dora exited the Floo. She looked tired, but then Auror training was designed to be brutal. The thinking was that it was best to break a trainee during basic training. If you allowed an incompetent Auror out on the streets, they could easily get themselves killed—and cause the deaths of innocent bystanders.

"I took the liberty of drawing a hot bath for you," Voldemort said.

He received a grunt in return as Dora gently stroked Fawkes' red and gold plumage. Twenty minutes later she emerged from the bathroom wearing nothing but the silk dressing gown that he had given her as a present. It hugged every one of her perfect curves.

"What's on the menu tonight?" Dora asked after taking a long sip of wine. Voldemort had stocked the cottage with a fine selection of muggle vintages, not the troll piss that wizards called wine.

Their dinner conversation consisted mostly of shop talk. Dora had accepted the fact that Vito Potter was a genius, and she had no problem asking for his advice about the magical theory she had to deal with during her Auror training. They often discussed dueling as well. It was a subject that was dear to both of their hearts.

"You still look tense. I think you need a massage."

"I guess it won't hurt," Dora replied with seeming indifference, but her silk gown quickly floated to the floor. It was a little game she liked to play—pretending that she didn't need to be pampered after coming home from a hard day of training.

Some people talk about having magic hands, but Voldemort literally did have magic coming out of his hands. Since he had absorbed the Diary Horcrux his magical strength was almost completely restored, and he found that strength to be intoxicating. It flowed through the cells of his body, and down his fingertips into Dora's sore muscles. She was fond of the sensation. So fond that after about five minutes she flipped-over and attacked him.

After a good night's sleep and a healthy breakfast they said their good-byes. As soon as Dora had entered the Floo, Voldemort walked out to the edge of the cottage's wards. There he found a huge wooden crate full of domestic animals that he had ordered a few days ago. He shrank the contents before making his way back up to Hogwarts, and then down into the Chamber of Secrets.

"Were there any major changes in the test subjects last night?" Voldemort asked.

"No, my Lord. They all appear to be in stable condition."

Percy was adjusting well to his new job, but the threat of a violent death does tend to focus a person. The ginger quickly figured-out Vito Potter's true identity, and strangely enough the idea of being one of Lord Voldemort's servants excited him. He now believed that rather being killed by Harry Potter, the Dark Lord had simply been trapped in the body of a child by some sort of magical accident.

Despite that setback, Percy noted that Voldemort was still winning his war against Dumbledore. The proof was that he had stolen the Philosopher's Stone from right under the Headmaster's nose. Percy believed that by the time that Vito and Harry Potter graduated from Hogwarts they would be running the country. And this particular Weasley was eager to be a part of the New Order when it finally came to power.

With a flick of his wand Voldemort returned the supplies he had retrieved this morning to their proper size. "I acquired enough food for the week. Place everything in storage, and then begin feeding the test subjects."

"Yes, my Lord."

Those test subjects were a large variety of animals; most of them old or sick. Voldemort had collected mice, rabbits, pigs, and even a dozen monkeys over the summer—although smuggling them into Hogwarts had been a major hassle. Ouroboros disliked sharing the Chamber of Secrets with other animals, so Voldemort began his daily cleaning routine. Even with his powerful magic it took some time, but he wasn't willing to give Percy his wand back.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes, my Lord," Percy said as he held-up his quill and parchment.

"Excellent. We are going to start with pig number four. When I acquired the pig it was dying, and a magical scan showed signs of cancer in the intestines," Voldemort said as he led the swine over to the operating table. "Twenty-five days ago I injected the test subject with one cubic centimeter of the Elixir of Life. Subsequent magical scans show a total remission of the cancer. Today I want to make a physical inspection of the intestines."

Voldemort then drew a knife and cut the pig's throat, which caused a river of blood to spill onto the operating table. He used a knife because he didn't want his own magic to interfere with the rituals he would be performing. Seven hours later he had his results, but they told him nothing new.

"I don't understand, my Lord. Isn't the fact the Elixir of Life worked a good sign?" Percy asked as he finished up his research notes.

"No, the Elixir didn't just work. It worked **perfectly**. It has worked perfectly every single time I've tested it."

"Then why didn't Nicolas Flamel share it with anyone besides his wife?" Percy wondered.

"That is the very question I keep asking myself. With something as powerful as the Elixir of Life at his disposal, Nicolas Flamel could have easily taken over the world. Especially six-hundred years ago when the muggles were so much weaker than they are today. Instead he chose to live as a recluse. That leads me to believe there is some hidden flaw I haven't discovered yet."

Until he was absolutely certain the he Elixir of Life was safe, Voldemort had no intention of taking it himself. So he would just have to continue with his test rituals. But not right now. Instead he had to go up to the Kitchen, and met his other self. That Voldemort was about to spend a very pleasant evening with Dora, while he had nothing to look forward to but a cold and lonely bed in the Hufflepuff dorms. The sacrifices a Dark Lord has to make.

* * *

"Did you see Professor Lockhart and Professor Malfoy during dinner tonight?" Susan asked. "She was actually feeding him food with her hands. I thought that Draco was going to challenge him to a Duel right in middle of the Great Hall."

"I think they are doing it," Harry said as they made their way down to Nearly Headless Nick's Deathday Party.

"Please watch your language," Hermione snapped.

"Yes, Harry Potter. What you should have said is: I think they are having sexual intercourse with each other," Luna told him.

According to both Lily's Map and the Marauder's Map, Harry was right. Narcissa and Gilderoy were going at it like rabbits at all hours of the day. It seems as if Lucius wasn't performing too well in the bedroom, because Voldemort only dosed Lockhart with Amortentia. Narcissa was acting of her own free will.

Luna Lovegood certainly was an odd duck, Voldemort mused. Odd, but brilliant. Despite being a first-year she could converse intelligently about both Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, something few seventh-years were capable of in his opinion. She was also obsessed with unseen magical creatures, but Voldemort was starting to believe it was a subterfuge to hide some talent she possessed but did not understand. Perhaps it was a new form of Mage Sight. That was the real reason why he had insisted that the Hufflepuffs attend this Deathday Party—so he could see if Luna had any abnormal reaction to the ghosts.

"Has anyone heard anything more about Percy Weasley?" Voldemort asked casually.

"I was talking with Ron Weasley during Transfiguration," Neville told them. "He says that Percy ran off to India with a scarlet woman, and that his mum is spending time resting at St Mungo's. I hope she gets better soon."

"If I had to live in the same house with Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny Weasley I would have run away to India too," Harry remarked.

"Hello, my fellow Hufflepuffs," the Fat Friar said when he saw their group arrived at the bottom of the stairs. "I'm so proud of you all for coming tonight."

"Look Vito, that knight has an arrow sticking out of his forehead. That is **so** cool," Harry said.

"That ghost is wearing a lot of chains. I wonder if he is the real Jacob Marley?" Hermione asked. Only Voldemort and Justin understood the reference.

"Hello Moaning Myrtle. Are you enjoying the Deathday Party?" Luna inquired.

It seemed like only yesterday when Voldemort had ordered Ouroboros to slay the annoying witch. That lovely memory brought a smile to his face. In fact Myrtle was even more annoying than he had remembered.

"No, I am not enjoying it at all. No one comes to my Deathday Party. I just spend the whole day alone, and no one..."

"Myrtle, shut up,"

The ghost did shut up, and Voldemort felt a chill run down his spine. Not only was he wearing the Resurrection Stone around his neck, but he also borrowed Harry's Invisibility Cloak a few days ago. That meant that all three of the Deadly Hallows were in his possession tonight—if his theory about his wand was correct. But how to test that theory?

"Where is Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore?" Voldemort asked the ghosts that had gathered around the Hufflepuffs.

"I will go fetch him for you," the Fat Friar offered.

"Who is Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore?" Hermione asked.

"Don't you know? Well, I must say I'm very disappointed in you Miss Granger." There were few things that Voldemort enjoyed more than reminding the witch that she was only the second smartest student at Hogwarts... and all those other things involved Dora being naked.

"May I help you in some way?" an aristocratic-looking ghost asked a few minutes later.

"I have been informed that you are the current leader of the Headless Hunt," Voldemort said.

"Yes, I have that privilege," the ghost replied in a haughty tone.

"Then you are the one who has been blackballing Nearly Headless Nick for the past few centuries."

"I am afraid that poor Nicholas isn't our sort of ghost," Sir Patrick replied.

_Here goes nothing_, Voldemort thought. "I hereby appoint Nearly Headless Nick as the new leader of the Headless Hunt. Happy Deathday."

For several seconds Sir Patrick looked as if he wanted to say something, but the words wouldn't come out of his incorporeal mouth. Finally he proclaimed in a loud voice: "Let it be known to all that Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington is now the leader of the Headless Hunt."

As the ghostly crowd cheered Harry turned to his brother. "Vito, how did you manage to do that?"

"It is an old custom I read about. Something about Deathday wishes coming true," he lied. Maybe the Deadly Hallows would be of some use after all.

The rotten food and the horrible music proved too much for the young Hufflepuffs, and they soon said their good-byes. As they made their way back to the dorms Harry noticed a large number of students had gathered at the base of the Grand Staircase. "Look, there is a message on the wall, and I think it's written in blood."

_The serpents shall finally be driven from the castle_

_Just as their fork-tongued master was a thousand years ago_


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note**: I posted this story a few years ago under my old pen name, but later deleted it. Now I'm posting it again.

* * *

The students of Hogwarts were on edge after the mysterious message appeared near the Grand Staircase. One of the professors confirmed that the words had been written in blood—the blood of a snake to be precise. Everyone was convinced that the message was a direct threat against the Slytherins, and the snakes were not happy about it. Lucius Malfoy and several other members of the Board of Governors visited the school to question the Headmaster, but nothing was accomplished.

As the days past the frustrated Slytherins began throwing their weight around. Several Gryffindors were attacked, but so far it was only the Gryffindors. The Ravenclaws were the Slytherins' unofficial allies, and the snakes didn't want to provoke the Hufflepuffs—or more specifically the Potter brothers—without a good reason. Voldemort could only smile at the anger and distrust that hung in the air. His idea to turn Lucius' plot against his former house was a success, and all it had cost him was a pint of blood.

The tense situation has made even worse by the Quidditch match which was scheduled a week after the message appeared. Gryffindor and Slytherin hated each other at the best of times, but now it was war. A fight broke out even before the match started. Draco had bribed his way onto the Slytherin team by providing them with new brooms. Voldemort had learned about his scheme, and had Harry buy new brooms for the other three houses. Draco threw a fit when he saw Ron Weasley holding a new Nimbus 2000, and Narcissa had to come down from the stands to calm him down.

The new brooms didn't help. Everyone agreed that the Seeker duel between Draco and Ron was one of the worst in living memory. Weasley finally caught the Golden Snitch after an hour, but that was only because George and Fred kept hitting Malfoy with the two Bludgers. It was a pathetic Quidditch match, but the Hufflepuffs had a party anyway. Of course they didn't need much of an excuse to break out the 'Puff-punch.

During the party Voldemort came to horrible realization that he was starting to like that little mudblood, Colin Creevey. He had been a major pain in the arse when he was first sorted into Hufflepuff, since his camera and his crush on Harry got on everyone's nerves. But then Voldemort **accidentally** destroyed the camera, and Colin started hanging out with his new crush Justin. The first-year then tried out for Quidditch, and to everyone's surprise he made the team as the new Beater. He wasn't as good as Dora, but he wasn't bad either. Last—but definitely not least—Colin turned out to be a brilliant drummer. At the age of eleven he already had more talent than Ringo Starr did at fifty-two.

As they played their way though a lively cover of _Twist and Shout_, Voldemort noticed a commotion at the door. Cedric Diggory—who was the badger's unofficial leader—went to see what was going on. He soon returned with the Weasley twins. It was rare to see anything but a smile on their ugly faces, but tonight it was clear something had them rattled.

"Do you have the Map with you?" a panicky George asked. "We really need to borrow it."

Voldemort's curiosity was piqued, so he went long with their request. "It's in my school trunk. This had better be important."

Harry joined their little group as Voldemort lead them to his dorm room. "Cedric, this Map is one of the few Potter heirlooms we have left. Harry and I would like to keep its existence a secret from the Professors."

"I understand, and you have my word that I won't tell anyone about it," Cedric replied.

"Does this have something to do Ginny?" Harry asked.

The twins nodded their heads in unison. "One of the older Slytherins said that the Weasley family was going to paid for today's Quidditch match, and Ginny is their most likely target. We have to find out if she's alright."

Voldemort touched the blank parchment with his wand. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good. Locate Ginny Weasley."

The Marauder's Map slowly emerged, and showed them a diagram of the Slytherin dorms. Ginny was in one of the side rooms, and her name was surrounded by a deep red color.

"How did you do get the Map to do that?" Fred asked.

"Harry's mother Lily made a few improvements to the original Map. See that dark red color around her name? That means that she has been hit by several curses."

Cedric had been staring at the Marauder's Map in amazement, but this was too much for him to accept. "How could you possible know that she has been cursed?

Rather than answering the boy, Voldemort hit him with a Stringing Hex. "Locate Cedric Diggory. As you can see, the Map shows your name with a light red color surrounding it. That means that you were only cursed once."

By now the twins were starting to lose it. "We told that cow McGonagall that Ginny was in trouble, but she wouldn't believe us. How are we suppose to get into the Slytherin common room without the help of a Professor?"

"Don't worry, I can get you inside," Voldemort offered. It had been a long time since his last brawl, and he was eager to test his partially-restored magical strength against live targets.

"We have half of Gryffindor out in the hallway," Fred said. "If you can get us in there, we'll do the rest."

"I can't let Potter brothers attack the Slytherin common room," Cedric declared. "They will murder you both."

"If you are worried about us, then you should come along," Harry told the older wizard as they began running back towards the common room.

The twins hadn't been lying. There were about thirty Gryffindors waiting for them outside, and they were soon joined by twenty Hufflepuffs who were following Cedric. Voldemort knew that a mob this size would be too difficult to control, so he had to get rid of most of them.

"We're going to pay the Slytherins a visit, and escorted Ginny Weasley to the Infirmary. I need everyone who is a fifth-year or younger to head up to the Infirmary, and get Madam Pomfrey out of bed. Sixth-years and seventh-years will follow Harry and me to the dungeons," Voldemort told them in a commanding voice.

Everyone was confused about what was going on, so no questioned **why** they were taking orders from a twelve year-old wizard. When their little army reached the edge of the dungeons Voldemort turned and motioned for everyone to stop.

"I will go ahead alone, and open the entrance. Stay here until I come back."

Before anyone could object, Voldemort disappeared around the corner. Once out of sight he put on Harry's Invisibility Cloak, and made his way to the dungeon wall that hid the entrance to the Slytherin common room.

"_**Speak to me Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four**__._"

With his mission accomplished, Voldemort silently returned to the waiting army. "The entrance is open. I suggest we go in with our wands out, and Stun anyone who gets in our way. Harry and I will lead the twins to Ginny, and the rest of you keep the Slytherins off our backs."

Harry quickly offered his support. "Vito is right. Ginny Weasley is hurt pretty bad, and we have to get her to Madam Pomfrey. This isn't the time for a friendly chat over tea and biscuits."

If you have enough time to prepare, defending one of the common rooms at Hogwarts is easy enough (they were specifically designed that way) but the Slytherins did not have any time to prepare. A few of them were standing outside to see why the entrance had opened, but they were brushed aside by the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. Voldemort lead the charge into the gloomy room, and he didn't hold anything back. His continuous chain of Stunners must have dropped two dozen Slytherins before they could even draw their wands.

"I can't believe we just did that," Cedric muttered as they looked over a silent room full of unconscious students.

"Believe it," Voldemort snapped. "Watch for any stragglers coming out of the dorms. Now let's get Ginny, and get the hell out of here before Professor Snape arrives."

"According to the Map she's over here," Harry said as he pointed at one of the darker side rooms.

They quickly found her. Voldemort had committed many atrocities over the course of his life, and he had seen others commit equally brutal acts. Often they were carrying out his orders. But the sight of a bloody and beaten eleven year-old girl was still disconcerting—even for him.

"Ginny!" the twins screamed. "She isn't moving. Do either of you know any Healing Spells?"

"Stand back and let me take a look at her," Voldemort told them, but Fred and George were too far gone to listen.

"Get out of Vito's way!" Harry yelled. Only then did twins move.

As Voldemort scanned Ginny's limp body he found it difficult to believe that Slytherins could be stupid enough to attack a fellow pureblood in their own common room. Even with the support of Lucius and the Board of Governors, a crime of magnitude could never be covered-up. Then he began to sense the results of his scan: the young witch was dead, but she had just passed away a few moments ago.

_What a perfect opportunity for a field test on a human being_.

"I am going to perform a Healing Spell," Voldemort told the crowd of onlookers. "Stay out of my way unless you want Ginny to die. Do you understand me?"

When everyone was at a safe distance he reached into his robe and pulled out a vial of the Elixir of Life. He had been hoping for this opportunity, and he quickly poured the liquid down Ginny's throat while performing a fake light show with his wand. Voldemort scanned her body again, and to his amazement the Elixir began to work. Her heart slowly started to beat again. Then she drew a long and ragged breath as her eyes snapped open. A second later they closed again, but she was still breathing.

"Vito, what did you just do?" George asked.

"We don't have any time for questions. We have to get her out of here before Snape shows-up." Voldemort transfigured a nearby chair into a stretcher. "You two will carry her. Be gentle, and **don't** use any magic around her. She's in a very fragile condition."

Several of the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs screamed when they saw Fred and George carrying Ginny's bloody body.

"Shut up!" Voldemort roared. "Form a protective circle around girl. We have to get her to Madam Pomfrey."

As they retreated from the dungeons they saw Snape at a distance. The Professor looked furious, but instead of confronting them he headed towards back to the Slytherin common room. Voldemort knew Snape would come-up with a suitable cover story, and that he would make sure all the Slytherins were on the same page before anyone had to face Headmaster Dumbledore.

When they finally reached the Infirmary they were met by a huge number of younger students. "Cedric, get these brats back to their respective common rooms. Use your wand if you must," Voldemort snarled as he ushered his patient into the Infirmary.

"What in the name of Merlin is going on here?" Professor McGonagall demanded as Fred and George carefully set Ginny down on one of the empty beds.

Voldemort turned to look at the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, and felt an intense wave of disgust at her incompetence. "We were doing your job."

"I don't have the time to listen to one of your tirades right now Minerva, so get out of here," Madam Pomfrey snapped. "Which one of you cast the Healing Charm on Miss Weasley?"

"I did," Voldemort answered. In truth the only spell he cast on Ginny was one to remove all traces of the Elixir of Life from her body. He had perfected that bit of magic down in the Chamber of Secrets as a way of hiding his research from Dumbledore.

"I must say that you did an excellent job. In fact you probably saved Miss Weasley's life."

Voldemort motioned for the twins to follow him away from the Healer. "Fred and George, you need to get your father here to Hogwarts. Use the Floo while Harry and I keep Madam Pomfrey distracted. Do it now."

Voldemort was gambling that Dumbledore would head to the dungeons first before checking on Ginny's medical condition. At this very moment Snape would be filling the Headmaster's ears with well-constructed lies like a good Slytherin. But that didn't matter, because Voldemort was a Slytherin too.

* * *

"Well Poppy, what is Miss Weasley's diagnosis?" Dumbledore asked an hour later. For reasons that defied logic, the Headmaster had brought Snape along with him to the Infirmary.

"Individually none of the curses were life-threatening, but the cumulative effect almost killed the child. Albus, this is one of the most barbaric things I have ever seen during my career as a Healer."

"Yes, the poor Ginny was having a difficult time adjusting to life here at Hogwarts, and I am afraid she hurt herself," Dumbledore intoned. "Accidentally, of course."

Pomfrey stared at the Headmaster for a good minute before speaking. "None of her wounds were self-inflicted. Not a single one. And all of my medical records will reflect that fact."

"Records are easily altered," Snape remarked.

"But my official medical testimony to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is not," Pomfrey shot back.

Dumbledore quickly stepped in between the two. "Poppy, given the current political climate, Hogwarts simply can't afford a scandal of this nature. You will list this case as an attempted suicide, and I will personally deal with the Weasley family."

"And if I refuse?" the Healer asked.

"Then I will deal with you," Snape sneered. "It's past time you were taught your place."

"Avada Kedavra."

Arthur Weasley was still partially hidden under Harry's Invisibility Cloak, but his Killing Curse still struck Severus Snape right in the chest. The Potion Master dropped to the floor, dead.

"I'm curious Albus. Just how were you going to explain Ginny's condition to Molly and me? After all our years of loyal service, **this** is how you repay my family."

"Arthur, what have you done!" a weeping Albus demanded as he knelt down next to the corpse.

"I did what should have been years ago. Severus Snape was a rabid dog, and you allowed him to run free for too long," Arthur replied as he turned to leave. "Poppy please take care of my daughter. I want Ginny moved to St Mungo's as soon as it is safe for her to travel."

"Where are you going?" Pomfrey asked.

"I have to turn myself in to the Aurors. Please take care of her."

From the corner of the room Voldemort had watched the whole scene play out from under a Disillusionment Charm. If things kept going this well a full-blown civil war would break-out by the end of the year.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy desperately wanted the Dementor's Kiss for his old enemy Arthur Weasley, but Voldemort knew he would never pass-up a chance to attack Dumbledore directly. Lucius also needed to protect Draco and any other Slytherins who might have been involved in the attack on Ginny. To this end he feed the _Daily Prophet_ several anonymous (and false) stories about Severus Snape, and the depravities he practiced on his students. Rita Skeeter ate it up with a spoon, and her articles over the next week crucified Dumbledore for allowing such a monster to teach at Hogwarts.

Calls for a new Headmaster grew louder each day. Dumbledore knew he had to throw a bone to the angry mob, so Professor McGonagall was forced to resign as the Deputy Headmistress. The Board of Governors demanded a strong replacement, and only one wizard had the necessary stature. In addition to serving as the new Deputy Headmaster, Horace Slughorn would also teach Potions and act as the Head of House for Slytherin. Voldemort was thrill that his favorite Professor would be returning to the castle.

The wheels of justice can move very quickly in the magical world—when it suits the Wizengamot's interests. As with most things that corrupt institution dealt with, the trial was decided on the basis of lineage. The Weasley family had been purebloods for over ten generations, and it didn't hurt that Arthur was one of the few popular figures working at the Ministry of Magic. On the other hand Snape was a half-blood misanthrope whose father had been a filthy muggle. It was also known that he was Dumbledore's personal spy, and that name was political poison at the moment.

The outcome of the trial was never in doubt. If Arthur Weasley hadn't used an Unforgivable Curse he probably would have gotten off with a minor fine for murdering Severus Snape. Instead he was sentenced to six months in a Ministry holding cell. Azkaban was no place for a wizard who had only been defending the honor of his pureblood daughter.


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note**: I posted this story a few years ago under my old pen name, but later deleted it. Now I'm posting it again.

* * *

It was the first day of the winter holidays, and while one Voldemort was in Little Whinging with Harry, another was in Hogsmeade spending time with Dora. He was anxious to stretch his magical muscles, since he really hadn't tested himself since absorbing the Diary Horcrux. (That minor skirmish in the Slytherin common room didn't count.) Voldemort was also curious about the changes in his wand, and his latest idea would solve both problems.

"Dora, it has been a couple of years now, and I feel I should visit my mother's grave. Would you like to come with me?"

The question alone brought tears to her eyes. "I would love to come with you, but it will take a week or two to arrange an International Portkey to the United States."

"We aren't going to use a Portkey. We are going to take the Great North Atlantic Loop."

Before Dora could object, Voldemort wrapped her in a hug and took them on a Side-Along Apparition. The Great North Atlantic Loop was a legendary group of Apparition points: from Scotland to to the Faroe Islands to Iceland to Southern Greenland to Newfoundland to the United States. To even attempt the Loop was considered an act of suicide for all but a handful of the most powerful wizards in the world. Voldemort had made the trip several times, and he hadn't found it to be much of a challenge. But that was before he was trapped in this new body.

"Vito!" Dora screamed when the reached the Faroe Islands, but Voldemort didn't even slow down to answer her.

Despite the drastic fluctuations in his magic over the years, Voldemort didn't feel any real strain until the jump from Southern Greenland to Newfoundland. But by the time they reached New York City he felt like he was going to die, and they both vomited freely when the trip was over.

"Vito Potter, I am going to kill you!" Dora yelled as she wiped the fresh vomit from her chin. "Do you have any idea of how dangerous it is for an inexperienced wizard to attempt the Loop?"

"Please Nymphadora Tonks, that was a rush and you know it," Voldemort said while still lying flat on his back. He looked over at Dora and saw the anger on her face, but also the admiration. And the lust.

She quickly turned away from his hungry gaze. "Where exactly are we? Do you know?"

"Woodlawn Cemetery in the Bronx. This is one of the outer boroughs of New York City and the place where my mother was buried," Voldemort said as he slowly got to his feet. That was a lie of course, since he had destroyed Gina Bianchini's body shortly after her death to avoid incriminating himself. The muggle's grave was now empty.

He held out his hand to Dora. "Come with me. Please."

They walked the short distance to the grave of Gina Bianchini hand-in-hand. Voldemort was quite impressed with his performance. They had traveled thousands of kilometers, and he had only missed his final destination by thirty meters.

"Mother, there is someone I would like to meet. This is Dora Tonks, and she is my Soul Mate. I was hoping that I could have introduced her to you as my wife, but she refused my offer of marriage. She used some rather colorful language that day. Dora thinks we are too young to be married, but that didn't stop her this morning when she grabbed my..."

"Vito!"

Voldemort spent the next hour or so delivering a monologue about his life since his rebirth as Vito Potter. It was strangely cathartic, despite the fact that he was speaking to the grave of a woman he had murdered. Dora cast some Warming Charms to protect them from the bitter December weather, but other than that she was silent.

"We beat the living snot out of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team again. Colin isn't half the beater that Dora was, but Harry is on a mission to beat dad's old record of goals scored in a single year. What else? Professor Slughorn is a tremendous improvement over the late Professor Snape, so I think that we can discontinue our Weekly Study..."

"Yes," Dora whispered.

"What's wrong?" a confused Voldemort asked.

"Yes, I will marry you. I could search the world for a hundred years, and I would never find another wizard as incredible as you."

That was certainly the truth, but he also knew that something else was going on here. "Have you been having problems during your Auror training?"

Dora closed her eyes. "I thought it would be different after Hogwarts. Everyone knows that teenage boys are pigs, but if anything working at the Ministry of Magic was been worse. And it's not just the constant harassment either. I have gotten three serious marriage proposals, and all the wizards were older than my father. They act like I should be honored—that it's some privilege to become a personal sex toy for a pureblood wizard in his sixties. I'm afraid that they might pass some sort of... marriage law and force the issue."

Voldemort reached over and took her face between his hands. "We don't have to get married you know. You could just give me the names of these three wizards, and I could kill them for you. That would put a stop to any future proposals."

"That's sweet of you, but if you are in Azkaban who will satisfy me on a daily basis?"

"An excellent point, so I guess we don't have any choice but to get married," Voldemort said, and to his surprise he found that he was looking forward to it. He wanted to publicly claim Dora as his own. Who better to serve as the consort of a great Dark Lord than a Metamorphmagus with a sense of humor?

Since he was still magically exhausted it was Dora's turn at Side-Along Apparition. She took them over the Harlem River into Manhattan, the borough which held the city's large magical district. However dealing with the United States Department of Magic was a bit more difficult than they had hoped.

"Marriage at our age is perfectly legal in Britain," Voldemort explained. Since he was technically still an American citizen, he figured it would be less of a hassle to marry here in the United States. It was a foolish assumption on his part.

"I don't care what kind of barbaric laws those inbred cretins at the British Ministry of Magic have. You are still an American, and that means you aren't allowed to marry until you are at least fourteen. And that is only with parental **and** judicial consent, which you do not have," they were told by Mrs. Flynn, one of the legal bureaucrats who worked for the USDM here in Manhattan.

Voldemort knew that the American witch was one step away from arresting Dora, so he thought it was time for a new approach. "My love, would you please show her why we want to do this."

Dora knew what he wanted. In a virtuoso display of her magical abilities she rapidly changed her appearance several times: from a Chinese teenager to a young Indian woman to an elderly African and finally back to a European Auror with bright pink hair.

"You are a honest-to-goodness Metamorphmagus," an awed Mrs Flynn murmured. "I thought that they were just a myth."

"Here I am, in the flesh. That's why I want to marry Vito."

"Let me guess, those pureblood pigs over in the United Kingdom want to use you as their own personal Polyjuice Potion whore?"

Dora hung her head in shame. "Yes."

"Miss Tonks, as a witch I can sympathize with your position, but he is just a boy. How can you be so sure about him?"

"Vito has never once asked me to change. Not once. That's how I know he loves me—Nymphadora Tonks—not my abilities as a Metamorphmagus."

Her emotional appeal did the trick, and two hours later they were legally married. Dora now had dual citizenship in the United States and the United Kingdom, with a standing offer to join the American Auror Corps if she wanted to. Thanks to rules of International Confederation of Wizards their marriage license was perfectly legitimate in Britain, and Mrs Nymphadora Potter was now safe from any laws that the filthy old wizards of the Wizengamot might think about passing.

"Vito, I can't believe we just did that. How in the name of Merlin do you get me into situations like this?" Dora asked in a bewildered tone.

"I'm your husband," Voldemort pointed out with relish. "It's my job to get you into situations like this."

"We are going to have to tell my parents before they read the wedding announcement in the _Daily Prophet_."

"I know, and I'm looking forward to meeting your father. But first I want to buy you a wedding present." The wand shop he was looking for was only a few blocks away, and it was the reason he had come to New York City in the first place.

* * *

"I was hoping that I would see you again Mr Potter. What can I do for you and your... sister?" asked Mr Ashlar.

"My **wife** needs a new wand."

The old man eyed Dora carefully, but said nothing about their usual relationship. Ashlar knew exactly how powerful Voldemort's wand was, since he was the one who crafted it.

"Vito, there is nothing wrong with my wand. I have had it since I was eleven, and it has never failed me once."

"I know that, but Ollivander isn't half as skillful as Mr Ashlar here. Besides, if you are going to be an Auror you will need the best possible wand to keep you alive."

"I agree with husband, Mrs. Potter. Please allow me to show you my special collection."

As he had done many years ago for Voldemort, Mr Ashlar opened a hidden vault in the wall, and removed a collection of exceptional wands. Even at a distance they seemed to hum with power. After studying them for a few minutes Dora instinctively reached for a short wand made of a pale yellowish wood. As soon as she touched it the dark wand shop was filled with a kaleidoscope of light. This beautiful display was enhanced when Fawkes suddenly flamed into existence right next to them.

"What are you doing here?" a giddy Dora asked the phoenix as she twirled her new wand about.

In response the magical bird flew over to Ashlar and dropped a single feather on the counter before him.

The American wizard smiled as he gently examined it. "Mrs Potter, there will be no further charge for your wand. It seems that your friend already knows that your new birch wand contains a phoenix feather core, and he has thoughtfully provided me with a replacement. Is there anything else I can do for today?"

Voldemort was watching Fawkes closely, and wondering if the phoenix was sending him some sort of hidden message. "Yes, could you please have a look at my wand?"

Ashlar carefully took hold of Vito's Thestral hair and bristlecone pine wand. As he did a look of fear came over his face. "Young man, what kind of experiments have you been performing on this?"

"It feels different to you too, doesn't it? Can you tell anything about the changes it has undergone?" Voldemort asked. He had come all the way across the Atlantic Ocean hoping that the American might be able to give him some useful information.

"I am sorry, but I can't help you. No one alive can."

That was all the Ashlar would tell him, but his words clearly had a deeper meaning. He was referring to the Deathly Hallows, which meant Voldemort's theory about the new Elder Wand might be correct.

"Vito, I have been wondering. How do you plan on getting us back to Hogsmeade?" Dora asked. Before he could answer her question Fawkes let out a loud trill, and its magical flames engulfed them both.

* * *

Much to his wife's horror, Voldemort sent an invitation to Mr and Mrs Tonks for a late evening supper. Apparently Dora hadn't told her parents about her new cottage in Hogsmeade, and they still thought she was living with some school friends in Glasgow. Voldemort felt it would be an excellent time for her to come clean about this minor lie, since they would already be so angry about her marriage.

"They had only disinherit you once," he reasoned.

Andromeda and Ted Tonks were an interesting pair. Despite her lack of formal training Andromeda worked as a curator at the British Museum. With its collection of over seven million objects, the Museum had acquired many magical artifacts over its long history, and Dora's mother kept these items from becoming a hazard to the general muggle population. Ted played the clarinet for the London Symphony Orchestra. It was his strongly held opinion—and Voldemort agreed with him—that wizarding culture in general and wizarding music in particular were utter rubbish. Dora's parents disapproved of her decision to take a job with the Ministry of Magic, an institution which they both saw as hopelessly corrupt.

"I was under the impression that you and your brother lived in Surrey," Andromeda said to Voldemort after she and her husband exited the Floo. She was clearly confused as to why he was here, but her pureblood manners prevented her from asking such a rude question.

"I do live in Surrey. This is Dora's cottage."

That got their attention. "It is? When did this happen Nymphadora?"

"She moved in at the end of August," Voldemort supplied.

"Mum, Dad. Could you please just sit down for a minute, and let me explain everything."

Despite Dora's fears, her parents took the news about the cottage well, although Andromeda did insist on seeing a copy of the mortgage. It was good investment from a financial point of view, and neither one could find any real fault with her decision.

"Alright, but that doesn't explain what Vito Potter is doing here," Ted Tonks pointed out. Unlike his aristocratic wife, the working-class wizard had no problem asking rude questions.

"Dora and I visited my mother's grave today, and we both thought I should stay for supper," Voldemort explained.

"I was under the impression that your mother was an American," a confused Andromeda said.

"Yes, she was. We took the Great North Atlantic Loop to New York City, and Fawkes brought us back to Hogsmeade a few hours ago."

Voldemort knew he should be handling this situation differently, but he always felt the need to establish dominance in his personal relationships. Andromeda and Ted now understood that despite his young age, his magical strength far surpassed their own.

"That is impossible," Ted said. "Dora said you were powerful, but that is impossible."

"I will grant you that it was a bit tricky towards the end, but we got there without any splinching. However that's not why we invited you here tonight. What we did after we arrived in New York City... that is the big surprise," Voldemort said as he took Dora's hand. "We got married."

After a long and uncomfortable silence Andromeda asked: "Nymphadora, are you pregnant?"

"How in the world could you ask her a question like that?" Ted demanded.

"Because I thought something like this might happen when she started sounding like my sister. She is always talking about how astounding the boy's magic is."

"I am nothing like Narcissa Malfoy," Dora snapped as her anger finally got the better of her embarrassment.

"I'm not talking about Cissy, I'm talking about Bellatrix," Andromeda shot back. "She too became obsessed with a powerful wizard, and if she didn't already have a husband she would have married him in a heartbeat. Instead she settled for becoming his mistress. No, that's being too generous. Bellatrix settled for being his pet _**dog**_, and in the end he destroyed her life."

"Mother, don't you ever compare my husband to You-Know-Who again," Dora hissed, and Voldemort knew she was seconds away from drawing her new wand.

"Will the both of you just calm down," Ted said as he moved between the two witches, hoping to prevent a duel. "I had plenty of dealings with Bellatrix before she went to Azkaban, and she was nothing Nymphadora. Andromeda, you know that better than anyone."

"Do you know what the real problem here is?" Voldemort asked, and the other three all turned to stare at him. That snide comment about Bellatrix pissed him off, and he was no longer in the mood to be polite. "It's the lousy job you did as parents."

"What did you just say?" Andromeda asked in an icy tone worthy of her insane sister.

Voldemort ignored her, and continued with his argument. "You did nothing to prepare your daughter for the terrible burden of being a Metamorphmagus. Instead you pretended that she was just another ordinary witch; just one of the thousands born around the world each year. In truth she is nothing of the kind. She is pearl beyond price. Artists create masterpieces for witches like Dora. Generals conquer nations for witches like Dora. Geniuses and madmen offer up their souls to the ancient gods for witches like Dora."

"Did either of you know that she was constantly harassed by both students and professors while she attended Hogwarts?" Voldemort asked. "Did you know that since she graduated she has had three serious marriage proposals from much older pureblood wizards? Do you have any idea of how much pain she has endured because of her gift? I married your daughter because more than anything I want to protect her. To keep her safe. To make her happy. As far as I can see neither of you seems to give a damn about any of that."

His wife—who was now crying—buried herself in his arms. Voldemort wasn't quite sure which of his words were true and which were lies. Perhaps it didn't matter. He transfigured a tea coaster into a silk handkerchief, and began to wipe away the tears from her wet cheeks.

"Why didn't you tell us about any of this before?" Ted asked softly.

"Because you and mum would have forced me to leave Hogwarts, and to live as a muggle," Dora replied. "But that's not the kind of life I want to live. For better or worse, I am a witch."

"You're not _a_ witch. You're _my_ witch," Voldemort told her. "Now and forever."

Ted still wasn't happy and Andromeda was still furious, but they both realized that any further objections would only drive their rebellious daughter away. Maybe even out of their lives altogether. Neither wanted that, so they reluctantly gave their blessings to the marriage.


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Note**: I posted this story a few years ago under my old pen name, but later deleted it. Now I'm posting it again.

* * *

The moment Voldemort, Dora, and Harry arrived by Floo at the Longbottom's country house the crowd of party-goers went silent, and all eyes turned towards them. That was to be expected, since they were now three of the most famous people in the magical world: the Boy-Who-Lived, his brother the bastard, and the gold-digging Metamorphmagus who was out to empty their Vault. Rita Skeeter's articles in the _Daily Prophet_ were full of colorful descriptions like that, and when Voldemort captured the deceitful reporter she was going to suffer. At length.

"Harry, Vito. You guys made it," Neville said as he came over to greet them at fireplace. Voldemort had never seen the shy boy so happy. "Hello... Tonks? Do I still call you that?"

"Tonks is fine."

"Where is Hermione? I thought she was coming with you."

"Sorry Neville," Harry said. "We broke-up, so she won't be coming to the party tonight."

Harry hadn't known what think about his brother's surprise marriage until he called girlfriend on the telephone to talk about it. Hermione had the strict morality of a muggle, and she thought a marriage between two teenagers was barbaric. Harry thought her tirade was an attack on Vito, which made him angry. Very angry. By the end of the call their six-month relationship was officially over. When he read Skeeter's nasty article in the _Daily Prophet_ the next day his mind was made up. Harry was now a wholehearted supporter of his brother's marriage.

"That's too bad," Neville offered politely. "I'm suppose to tell you that the **adults** want to have a word with you in private before the party gets started. Is that a problem?"

"No, not at all," Voldemort replied. "Just lead the way."

The pudgy wizard showed them to the two-story library, where a varied group of witches and wizards was waiting to meet them. Augusta Longbottom who was conferring with Amelia Bones and Mad-Eye Moody. There were also two redheads present—they were probably the two oldest Weasleys, Bill and Charlie. They were talking with an older wizard who looked like a less-handsome version of Cedric Diggory. But it was the final two occupants of library who were the true centers of attention.

"Cor blimey," Dora muttered when she saw them in the flesh.

Neville just smiled at her reaction. "Harry, Vito, Tonks—these are my parents Frank and Alice Longbottom. Mum, Dad—these are my good Hufflepuff friends Harry, Vito, and Tonks."

After the introductions Augusta quickly escorted her grandson from the library, and sealed the doors behind them.

"Come here and let me have a good look at you," Alice Longbottom told the new arrivals. She short and plain, but the warmth of her personality made you forget that. The witch reached out and put her hands underneath Harry and Vito's chins. "You are definitely James Potter's sons, but Harry you have Lily's beautiful green eyes."

"I have my mother's eyes as well," Voldemort offered.

"She must have been a very special woman," Frank Longbottom said with a sly grin.

"Don't get any ideas," Alice warned her much-taller husband, which earned a round of chuckles from the adults.

Alice then turned to Dora. Just for a second there was a look of fear in her eyes, but she quickly recovered. Voldemort understood the reaction: his wife could easily pass as Bellatrix's twin if her hair was long and black instead of short and pink.

"You are Ted and Andromeda's girl?" Neville's mother asked in a much colder voice.

"Alice," Mad-Eye cautioned. "I saw these boys put Minerva McGonagall flat on her Scottish arse last year, and that was before they were even sorted. And my trainee Tonks is as good with a wand as you ever were, so you'd best keep your opinions about their marriage to yourself."

"I don't understand what happened," Harry said in an attempt to break the tension in the library. "Neville told us that you were both sick for a long time, and that the Healers couldn't help you."

"The Healers didn't help us. We just got better, and no one can really explain why it happened," Frank told them.

Voldemort could have explained everything to the Longbottoms, but he chose not to. He felt that an experiment always produced better results if the test subjects were kept in a state of ignorance. That being said, the Elixir was performing up to its usual standards.

"We're glad you are both feeling better," Harry offered. He was the only person present who didn't know the horrible details about the attack on the Longbottoms, so he was the least effected by their miraculous recovery. "Neville said you wanted to talk to us."

"Yes, we do. Would you please have a seat," Amelia Bones said as she gesturing to the sofa. Voldemort sat down between Harry and Dora as he mentally prepared for the hostile interrogation.

"We understand you made a secret deal with Lucius Malfoy during the Winter Solstice last year," Amelia Bones said bluntly.

"Yes, we did," Voldemort replied, just as bluntly.

"Why would you do something like that?" Amos Diggory asked while looking directly at Dora.

"Malfoy was preparing to go before the Wizengamot in an attempt to seize control of everything Sirius Black left to Harry. He claimed that Black was insane and that his will was invalid. The deal we struck allowed Malfoy to keep the Black family heirlooms, while Harry received the vast majority of the galleons. Neither party wanted to risk losing everything," Voldemort explained, "And I would advise you not to insult my wife again Mr Diggory."

"And what happens if he does?" Charlie Weasley asked.

"I will call him out for a duel in the middle of the Ministry of Magic, and then I will humiliate him in front of his co-workers."

"You have a big mouth for someone your age."

"The Weasley family owns me a Life Debt for saving Ginny, which means that none of you can attack me," Voldemort told Dora's ex-boyfriend. "So why don't you go and shovel some dragon shite while the adults are talking."

As Bill was dragged his furious brother out of the library, Voldemort turned to the others. "Shall we continue?"

"Mad-eye, you were right about this one," Frank commented. "He's got a big pair of brass cojones."

"So you're telling us that this... deal wasn't part of a formal alliance between the Malfoy and Potter families?" Amelia asked. "After all, you are now married to Narcissa's only niece."

"Director Bones, you know that my mother was cast out of the Black family before I was even born. My marriage to Vito has nothing to do with any pureblood alliance," Dora said in a pained voice. Voldemort knew that she thought of Amelia Bones as a mentor, and saw the question as a terrible insult.

"Malfoy is a Death Eater. We will never become allies with him, or with any other Death Eater," Harry added.

"It's obvious what this meeting is all about," Voldemort said. "Now that Albus Dumbledore has ruined his political reputation, you are hoping to use the Boy-Who-Lived as the new figurehead for your little vigilante group. Isn't that right?"

"Vito, we don't want a figurehead. We want an **ally** to fight with us against Malfoy and the other Death Eaters who are still running amok," Alice declared. "After eleven years in a coma we awoke to discover that everyone has gone mad. If we don't act soon who knows what will happen to his country."

"This is exactly what Malfoy wants," Voldemort muttered.

"What are you talking about boy?" Mad-Eye roared.

"Malfoy wants Dumbledore's remaining followers to move against the pureblood faction so he can convince Cornelius Fudge that you pose a threat to the Ministry of Magic. Once Fudge is frighten enough he will dismiss you from your current positions, and then he will use the Aurors to finish you off. Malfoy will have won the war without casting a single curse, and it will all be perfectly legal."

There was a long silence before Amelia spoke. "If you think that another war is inevitable, then what do you and your brother intend to do about it?"

"Given the size of the Potter Vault, I believe that Minister Fudge will be happy to work with us in the future," Voldemort told them.

"You are going to bribe the Minister of Magic?" the Director of Magical Law Enforcement asked.

"We prefer to think of it as donating to a worthy cause," Voldemort said. "Look, if we fight Lucius Malfoy and Cornelius Fudge at the same time we are going to lose. If bribes are what is takes to keep them fighting each other instead of us, then so be it."

"It is a dangerous game you are planning on playing," Mad-Eye said. "What makes you think that you can outmaneuver a slippery snake like Lucius?"

"Fudge hated being Dumbledore's puppet. Do you really think he wants to be Malfoy's puppet now? Or would he prefer to be seen as a powerful and independent Minister of Magic who answers to no one?"

"You want to play to Cornelius' sizable ego? That might work," Amelia mused. "But what if Malfoy decides to seize power by force?"

"The man is an arrogant wanker, and no one likes following an arrogant wanker," Dora said. "Especially one who wants to start another bloody war so soon after the last one ended."

"Besides, all we have to do is stall Malfoy for five years until Harry comes of age," Voldemort added.

"You think that the people will just accept your brother as the next Albus Dumbledore when the time comes?" Amos Diggory asked.

"My brother isn't the next Albus Dumbledore. He is the Boy-Who-Lived. He defeated a Dark Lord whose name you are still too frightened to say aloud—even a decade after his death," Voldemort sneered. "So yes, the people will accept Harry over a buffoon like Lucius Malfoy. Of that I am certain. Don't you agree Headmaster?"

Dumbledore emerged from his Disillusionment Charm. He had been standing in the corner of the library the whole time. "I can not approve of your plans Vito. We must not lower ourselves to level of our enemies. And I must say Nymphadora, I am terribly disappointed with your recent actions."

Dora look furious with the old wizard, and Voldemort was curious to see how she would react.

"Fawkes," she called out. The phoenix responded to her call, much to the amazement of those present. "I take it that Dumbledore has neglected to inform you that Fawkes abandoned him. Maybe you should think about what that means before he gets you all killed."

Dumbledore opened his mouth, but Harry didn't hesitate to cut him off. "Please give our regards to Neville. We aren't going to stay here and listen to any more of his insults."

A second later the three Potters and their phoenix disappeared from the library in an explosion of magical flames.

* * *

The Great Hall was abuzz the night the students returned from the holidays, and Vito Potter's marriage was just one of the topics under discussion. The students were also speculating about the **Miracle at St Mungo's**—as many were calling the sudden recovery of the great war heroes Frank and Alice Longbottom. But the subject of greatest interest was Ginny Weasley. Not only had the first-year survived the attack in the Slytherin common room, but rumor had it she was going to be resorted. This was an unprecedented event in the history of Hogwarts, and many believed that it would never happen.

"I told you that Vito was already married, but you all just laughed at me," Luna told her fellow Hufflepuffs. Voldemort always sat next to the little blonde because he found her bizarre attempts at conversation to be soothing for some reason.

"He wasn't married when you told us that."

"Hannah Abbott, as a witch you should know better than to second-guess the power of temporal mechanics," Luna lectured.

Susan knew from experience that it was best to stop the strange witch quickly, so she changed the subject. "What I want to know is why we weren't invited to the wedding? There is nothing Hufflepuffs like better than a good party."

"Bones, we were married in New York City, which is on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean," Voldemort explained. "Even Harry wasn't in attendance."

"Forget the wedding. What I want to know is how was the honeymoon?" Cedric asked from down the table. His question got lots of laughs.

"Diggory, that's not something I can really explain to a virgin like you," Voldemort replied to even greater laughter.

"They had their honeymoon last summer," a grumpy Harry added. "Even with the Privacy Charms I would still hear them going at it every night." The boy had been a miserable berk since his break-up with Granger, and if he didn't get a new girlfriend soon Voldemort was going to kill him.

As he looked around at the reaction to Harry's comment, he was again struck by how popular his marriage had made him. On the Hogwarts Express he had scanned the minds of several students. The wizards were impressed with him for obvious reasons, since they all multiple fantasies about Tonks the Metamorphmagus. But the girls were captivated as well. They were still young enough to believe in fairy tales about true love. Voldemort wondered how long his popularity would last before the students went back to fearing him.

All the noise suddenly died down as Professor Slughorn walked into the Great Hall carrying the Sorting Hat. Voldemort had mixed feelings about the wizard. Since he learned about their weekly Potions group, Slughorn kept insisting that he and Padma Patil were budding Potion Masters. They were only second-years, but he was already talking about arranging apprenticeships. While Voldemort found this attention annoying, he was glad to see that Slughorn was still the same social climber he remembered. That trait made the Deputy Headmaster predictable, and easy to manipulate.

The students heard Ginny Weasley coming before they saw her. Her injuries were so severe that she still hadn't made a full recovered. The ginger witch was walking with a cane that made a loud clicking noise as it hit the stone floor. Since Harry was paying for her medical treatment—a fact which Voldemort planned on shoving down Charlie Weasley's throat—he knew that the cane was only a temporary measure. Still, it made for an excellent prop as Ginny walked the length of the Great Hall. Voldemort stood and began clapping in support of her bravado. Soon three of the four tables were giving her a standing ovation.

"Gryffindor," the Sorting Hat shouted the second it touched her head.

Voldemort was fascinated to learn that Ginny had been considered a brand-new student by the Enchanted Ceiling, just as he was last year. So if you wanted a student be resorted, you first had to kill them and then bring them back to life. Perhaps he would kill Granger, dose her with the Elixir of Life, and then send her off to Ravenclaw where she belongs.

Now that their sister was safe with the rest of the Gryffindors, the Weasley twins looked over at Voldemort and nodded. They were done with the penny ante pranks of the Marauders. Now they wanted to **hurt** the Slytherins. To that end Voldemort had given the twins a thousand galleons and a notebook full of Curses designed by a young Tom Riddle. If they could stay out of Azkaban, George and Fred would soon be joining their older brother in his service.

* * *

"So Percy, what do you think?" Voldemort asked as he gestured towards the hideous half-human and half-Acromantula monster they had magically manufactured.

True to his promise, Voldemort had captured Rita Skeeter while she was in her Animagus form. He brought her here to the Chamber of Secrets, and then fed her a Polyjuice Potion containing a hair from an Acromantula. The transformation had been excruciating, but Skeeter deserved this and far worse for calling his wife a gold-digger.

"My Lord, I don't think she will survive. The changes to her gross anatomy are just too traumatizing," Percy theorized. Since Vito Potter had saved Ginny's life in the Slytherin common room, the boy had become even more devoted to his new master. As a reward Voldemort allowed Percy to use his wand from time to time.

"I was hoping that her experience as an Animagus would allow her magic to cope with the transformation, but that doesn't appear to be the case. Give her a dose of the Elixir of Life. We can't have her dying on us just yet. I will work on further modifications to the Polyjuice Potion, and then we can try again in a few weeks."

"What should I do with her in the interim?" Percy asked.

"My first instinct would be to give her a Draught of Living Death, but I don't want any other potions to interfere with our future experiments. That means she will have to be kept fully conscious," Voldemort replied. "She will make every attempt to escape the Chamber of Secrets. That will include trying to seduce you."

"My Lord, I would never betray you," Percy said quickly.

"I know that, and I value your loyalty. But if you want to let Skeeter **believe** that you are plotting to escape... that is perfectly acceptable to me."


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Note**: I posted this story a few years ago under my old pen name, but later deleted it. Now I'm posting it again.

* * *

"Minister Fudge, welcome to the Hogwarts Dueling Club," Professor Lockhart proclaimed in his loud theatrical voice.

"It's good to be here Gilderoy, it's good to be here," Fudge replied with just as much sincerity.

With the unlamented death of Severus Snape Potions was no longer much of a problem for the students of Hogwarts, so Harry insisted they turn their attention to the Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Voldemort agreed that Lockhart was utterly useless, but he wasn't about to get roped into teaching again like he had with Potions. As a compromise the Potter brothers agreed to participate in the new Dueling Club.

Harry had the Ravenclaws and Hermione—who he was now talking to again—devise a lesson plan based on Voldemort's recommendations. In theory Lockhart was supervising the Dueling Club, but in reality the Potters were doing all the hard work. Even the seventh-year students were intimidated by the Vito and Harry, so no one questioned their authority. Professor Lockhart was too busy preening to notice any of this.

"Harry my boy, so good to see again," Fudge said as he waddled over with a few pet journalists in tow.

The reason why the Minister was in such a good mood was because Voldemort had stuffed his bloody Vault full of the galleons last week. After receiving his bank statement from Gringotts, Fudge was more than happy to come up to Hogwarts for a brief tour. A front page picture of him speaking with the Boy-Who-Lived for the _Daily Prophet_ didn't hurt either. Of course Professor Lockhart insisted on standing right between Harry and the Minister. Luckily the wanker knew how to pose for a good picture. That and casting Memory Charms were about the only two genuine talents he possessed.

After Fudge departed, dueling practice quickly resumed. Since Voldemort was acting as the disciplinarian for the Club, his brother was free to help the individual students with any problems they might be having. Harry had a real knack for teaching. He had also been personally tutored by the greatest wizard in the world, so his dueling technique was flawless.

"He sure likes working with Angelina Johnson," Daphne commented to Voldemort as they watched Harry gently correct the angle of the older witch's right elbow. His brother was several centimeters shorted than Johnson, but she didn't seem to mind. Not at all, if her constant smiles and laughter were anything to go by.

"Like Harry and me, she has a rare combination of magical power and athletic ability. That means she was a great deal of potential as a duelist. Why Greengrass, are you jealous?"

"Yes, I am," she admitted. "With Granger finally out of the way I was hoping for a shot with him, but Johnson is not someone you what to tangle with. Despite her age she is already the most formidable witch in Gryffindor."

"I thought she see was seeing one of the Weasley twins?"

"Don't tell me you haven't noticed that Fred and George have gone a little crazy since the attack on their sister Ginny. They no longer seem interested in dating. Or their classes. Or much of anything else for that matter," Daphne explained.

"Well, it doesn't matter who gets Harry first, it only matters who gets him last," Voldemort observed. "You'll have plenty of time to work on my brother, and when you do you'll have my support. I happen to think you would make a fine addition to the Potter family."

"Why thank you. To be honest Harry was my second choice, since I was hoping for a match with you," the witch said in a wistful voice. "Dora sure didn't waste any time snatching you up."

"I proposed to her. Several times in fact."

Voldemort looked over at Greengrass, and saw that she was nervous for some reason. A brief touch of Legilimency made it clear she was after more than idle conversation. "Is there something else I can help you with?"

"The situation here at Hogwarts is already tense, and it's only going to get worse. When it does my house will be the first target for the Slytherins, and we just don't have the raw strength needed to defend ourselves. Admitting this is humiliating for me, but the lions will need the protection of the badgers if I'm right about how things are going to play out in the coming months."

"Our houses had no problem working together that night Ginny Weasley was attacked," Voldemort pointed out.

"But she still almost died. I would prefer to be more proactive, and deal with situations like that before they spiral out-of-control," Daphne stated.

"I doubt that Headmaster Dumbledore would approve of any formal alliances between the houses, especially an alliance hostile to the Slytherins."

"Please Vito, you don't care about Albus Dumbledore's opinion anymore than I do. What I care about is protecting myself and my house. I have put too much time and effort into properly training Lavender and Parvati to see them get traumatized by some brain-dead snake."

Voldemort smiled. "Alright Greengrass, I will talk to Harry. Then we can arranged a meeting with some of the prefects from Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. You know what... let's included the Ravenclaws too."

* * *

It took about a week of negotiations, but the leaders of Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor had finally gathered together for their anti-Slytherin summit. Voldemort was impressed with Greengrass' leadership skills. She had the makings of a fine politician, perhaps even a future Minister of Magic. The lions and the badgers were excited about the summit, but the eagles were another story.

"I don't see how this is our problem," one of the Ravenclaw prefects said. "Everyone knows that the Weasley twins and the Potters have been provoking the Slytherins. It's no surprise that they are fighting back this year."

"Listen you stupid tosser, pranks are one thing but nearly killing a first-year is another," Fred growled.

"I agree," Harry added. "The Slytherins crossed a line, and I'm not going to sit back and take anymore of their pureblood garbage."

"So what are you suggesting?" asked Roger Davies, one of the more popular Ravenclaws. "Dumbledore wouldn't let us do anything until the Slytherins attack us **first**, and by then it's too late. All you can do is cast a Shield Charm, and hope for the best."

"Who said we were going to involve the Headmaster in any of this?" Harry asked. "When Dumbledore brought the Philosopher's Stone to Hogwarts last year he showed us that he doesn't give a damn about our safety. If we want to protect ourselves, we have to do it by ourselves."

Several of the students cheered this statement, including Angelina Johnson. "Harry is right. The Professors have turned a blind eye towards everything that's happening. Last week five Gryffindors were attacked, but when we asked Professor McGonagall for help she just ignored us."

"I know you all might find this hard to believe, but Vito was reading a book the other day," Harry joked. It was well known that one of the Potter brothers was a genius, and that the other Potter brother had a scar on his forehead.

"The book had this great line. "All for one, and one for all." I think that should be our motto from now on. If the Slytherins attack any one of our houses, we should treat it like an attack on all of our houses. The snakes always pick on the weakest and youngest students they can find, but if we stand together they won't be able to get away with that shite anymore. I say it's time to take Hogwarts back from those slimy bastards."

Harry's words and delivery were nothing special, but the fact **he** was the one speaking made an important difference. These teenagers had been hearing stories about the Boy-Who-Lived their entire lives. And here he was standing right in front of them in the flesh, telling them to strike back against a hated foe. As Voldemort looked over the faces of the other students he knew that his brother had hooked them. The three houses had an enemy in Slytherin, and now they had a leader in Harry Potter.

"Take these," Voldemort said as he brought out a large box of vegetables he had borrowed from the Kitchen. "They will allow you to call for help if you get into trouble,"

"Vito, these are radishes. What in the name of Merlin are we suppose to do with radishes?" Penelope Clearwater asked.

"I got the idea from Luna Lovegood's earrings. These radishes have runes inscribed on them that allow Harry and me find you anywhere in the castle. There is also a preservation charm on them, so they won't spoil. Keep them with you at all times."

"Why a radish?" Lee Jordan asked. "Why couldn't you make them out of something cool—like a gold galleon?"

"Is your wand made out of gold? No, it is made out of organic material like wood and unicorn hair because organic material is the best medium for conducting magic. Now stop thinking a bloody muggle, and take one."

Voldemort had figured the magical mechanics needed for this project years ago when he first designed the first Dark Mark. But since runic tattoos were not an option, these radishes were the next best alternative. It was a pity that Luna's mother had died, since the witch had a true gift for spell creation. Even after years of use the radish earrings she created for Luna still provided the girl with a strong shield against Legilimency.

* * *

The second experiment with Rita Skeeter was much more successful than the first one had been. By subtly altering the Polyjuice Potion Voldemort was able to slow the transformation process and stabilize its end result. He also discovered that when Skeeter was in her new beast-like form she was easy to manipulate with the Imperius curse. The whole process was very stressful to a human body, and the exhausted witch was now sleeping on her cot.

Unfortunately Voldemort could not use Skeeter for his upcoming attack. The reporter's last article for the _Daily Prophet_ had included a direct attack on Dora. No one had yet accused his wife of playing a role in the reporter's disappearance, but it was still too risky to have her make an appearance at Hogwarts. If he wanted to prevent anyone from making the connection it would be prudent to tie-up this loose end now.

"Have you enjoyed Skeeter's company during these past few weeks?" Voldemort asked Percy.

"It has been very... educational, my Lord."

"I am sure it has been. Regrettably Skeeter is no longer of any use to us, and we will have to dispose of her immediately." Voldemort wanted to see the boy's reaction: Percy's face went pale, but he didn't flinch. "Do you want me to take care of this unpleasantness?"

"I will do it, my Lord."

Percy knew that his loyalty was being tested, and he cast a Killing Curse without delay. Voldemort silently watched the boy as he stared down at the corpse lying on the cot. Skeeter had taken his virginity in more ways than one.

"Will your basilisk devour her remains?" Percy finally asked.

"No, Ouroboros doesn't care for the taste of human flesh," Voldemort replied in a chatty tone. "Feed her to the pigs."

* * *

The rest of the school year settled down into a comfortable routine. The Weasley twins would harass the Slytherins until they provoked a response. Then the other three houses—lead by Harry—would retaliate with overwhelming force. Since they had the advantage in numbers the outcome of the guerrilla war going on inside of Hogwarts was never in much doubt.

Headmaster Dumbledore was too busy with his political schemes to stop the fighting, while Deputy Headmaster Slughorn was so consumed with his busy social life that he was rarely in the castle. The other Professors tried to discipline the students from time to time, but they could to nothing to restrain the Boy-Who-Lived and his band of vigilantes.

Harry himself was in a much better mood as winter slowly gave way to spring. Now that he was dating Angelina he told his brother that he understood why he married an older witch. From grin on Harry's face Voldemort inferred that his new girlfriend was a much more adventurous than Granger had been. Speaking of the bookworm: she was now helping Cedric with his Muggle Studies class, and they did much of their studying in broom closets.

Relations between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff were going so well that the lions didn't mind when they were crushed on the Quidditch pitch in early May. In fact they and the Ravenclaws joined the Hufflepuffs for a pool party at the Baths. That night they all learned that the only thing better than 'Puff-punch and dancing was 'Puff-punch and dancing while wearing skimpy swimsuits. As Voldemort admired the soaking-wet body of the lovely Cho Chang, he couldn't recall Hogwarts being this pleasant back in the forties.

* * *

That night was far less pleasant for the Slytherins, since a massive purple beast with two sharp horns attacked their common room.

After their confrontation at the Longbottom's party, Dumbledore demanded that Vito Potter return his Time-Turner to the Ministry of Magic. Voldemort was more than happy to comply, since he had already retrieved a pair of Time-Turners from one of his hidden supply depots. Since Vito was currently at the pool party with dozens of witness, his alibi for the night was secure.

After traveling a few hours into the past Voldemort went to the Chamber of Secrets and retrieved a special batch of Polyjuice Potion. Although he had been tempted to go with the Acromantula hair, in the end he chose a Graphorn since they were tougher and more agile than the giant spiders. Using the Marauder's Map he found Professor McGonagall drink tea in her office, and stunned the witch before she even knew he was in the room.

Carrying McGonagall through the castle while hiding under an Invisibility Cloak was a chore, but he was able slowly make his way down to the dungeons. Once there he force-feed her the special Polyjuice Potion. He then opened the door to the Slytherin common room, and used the Imperius Curse to send the Graphorn-Witch Hybrid rushing in.

There was mass panic when the Slytherins saw the purple beast, but a few wizards kept their wits about them and began casting. Voldemort—who was still controlling McGonagall at this point—was impressed with their extensive knowledge of the Dark Arts. One of the students recognized that the monster was a Graphorn, and knew that its thick hide was even more spell-resistant than a dragon's scales.

"Curses won't kill it!" Adrian Pucey yelled over the screams of his fellow Slytherins. "Use transfiguration to tie it down!"

Slowly this impromptu battle plan began to work. Random sofas and chairs were transformed into heavy chains and sharp meat hooks. The combined weight of these chains proved too much for the powerful Graphorn, and even Voldemort's powerful Imperius Curse could no longer spur it on.

Still, the attack had been a success from his point of view. A dozen of the Slytherins were badly injured, and two were dead. When the other students saw the mutilated bodies of Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini they redoubled their attacks on Graphorn, and bashed its brains all over the floor of the common room. Less than five minutes later both Dumbledore and Slughorn arrived to survey the carnage.

"How could a Graphorn possibly make it inside the wards of Hogwarts?" Dumbledore wondered as he watched Madame Pomfrey tend to the injured Slytherins.

Professor Slughorn was down on his hands and knees making a comprehensive examination of the fallen beast, and he soon had an answer. "It never passed through the wards because it was already inside the castle. Or should I say that **she** was already inside the castle. This... **thing** use to be Minerva."

* * *

In some ways the trial against Dumbledore in the Wizengamot was a thousand years in the making. The Slytherins would never admit it, but the fact that their founder Salazar had been exiled from Hogwarts left a stigma that the centuries could not wash away. Many believed that the other three houses of the school would be happy to see Slytherin abolished once and for all, and now with this fiendish plot their fears were confirmed.

Of course Dumbledore loudly protested his innocence, but no one believed him. Minerva McGonagall had been his faithful servant for over fifty years. She had followed in his footsteps as the Professor of Transfiguration, as the Head of Gryffindor, and later as the Deputy Headmistress. Many believed she was his chosen heir as the next Headmistress of Hogwarts. If McGonagall was using the Dark Arts as part of some plot against the Slytherins, then it was because Dumbledore had ordered her to do so.

Lucius was still grieving for his dead son and heir, but that didn't stop him from weaving a vast conspiracy with Dumbledore at its center. According to Malfoy only the Headmaster of Hogwarts could have secretly painted that bloody warning to the Slytherins near the Grand Staircase. And the attack on young Ginny? Well, everyone knows the Weasleys were Dumbledore's most fanatical supporters, so the entire episode was just an elaborate excuse to murder the powerful Severus Snape. The grand finale was the attack by McGonagall herself, which was designed to permanently drive the Slytherins from the castle.

Few members of the Wizengamot believed all of these accusations, but many believed that at least some of them. Dumbledore's high-handed arrogance had made him few friends and many enemies over the decades. Other more neutral wizards were just plain tired of the Headmaster, and the oversized role he played in their small world. Here was a golden opportunity to be rid of Dumbledore forever, so for a variety of reasons the members of the Wizengamot took it.

Perhaps if the old wizard still had the Elder Wand or the loyalty of his phoenix he might have made a daring escape. But it was not to be. A Dementors was brought in from Azkaban the next day, and the soul of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was devoured.

Voldemort was in attendance, and he savored every moment of the sorry spectacle.


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Note**: I posted this story a few years ago under my old pen name, but later deleted it. Now I'm posting it again.

* * *

"This isn't what I had in mind when I suggested we go on our honeymoon," Voldemort pointed out to Dora as they sunned themselves on a warm Mediterranean beach.

After the school year ended the newlyweds had decided to take a trip to the Greek island of Aesalon. Named after the first known Animagus, the island was Unplottable and had been a favorite vacation spot for wizards since the time of the Roman Empire. With its clear blue water and lack of muggles it seemed an ideal place to take their long-delayed honeymoon now that Dora had earned a week off from her Auror training.

At least that was the idea until Harry told them he wanted to come along, and that he wanted to invite Angelina too. Voldemort thought that was a terrible idea, and Angelina's parents agreed with him. Their daughter wasn't going on an unchaperoned vacation with a bunch of teenagers. Faced with these objections, Harry unilaterally invited his girlfriend's two best mates Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell to act as chaperons. They in turned wanted **their** boyfriends to come along to avoid any awkwardness.

With the addition of Fred and George—who were still very interested in witches by the way—came Ron and Ginny who both refused to be left behind at the Burrow. Since Ginny needed an adult guardian **and** an age-appropriate friend, Bill Weasley and Luna joined the Harry's mass expedition. Rounding out the disaster were Neville and his parents, but Voldemort wasn't sure if the Longbottoms were part of their group or just on a parallel course. Either way it was a good thing that he had stolen the Philosopher's Stone, because this vacation cost a boatload of galleons.

"It could be worse," Dora said between sips of her Firewhiskey Sour. "Harry could have invited Charlie."

"I should just kill your ex-boyfriend, and be done with it."

"Vito, all we ever did was snog a few times. I don't see why you hate him so much."

"He asked you to change your perfect body. He deserves to die."

"Some blokes like large breasts," Dora pointed out.

"His mother has large breasts." Voldemort deadpanned. "This whole conversation is making me nauseous."

"I'm not jealousy of Luna," his wife said with a small pout. "People tell me things. I know for a fact that she **always** sits next to you in the Great Hall."

Rather than respond to that accusation Voldemort just looked Dora up and down. She was wearing a simple white bikini, but every wizard on the beach would be thinking of her the next time he wanked. Then he looked over at Luna, who was searching for seashells while wearing a sundress made out of seaweed. Old and smelly seaweed.

"OK, maybe I am being paranoid, but in my defense I do spend a lot of time around Mad-Eye. Harry looks like he's having fun."

Muggles weren't allowed on the island of Aesalon, but their new ideas were. As a result wizards had adopted the sport of windsurfing, and they improved on it by developed a charm that provided the sail with a constant supply of wind. Harry and the Gryffindor Chasers had taken to the sport like ducks to water, and they had to moving at over fifty kilometers per hour out there on the waves. Meanwhile Neville and his parents were building a sandcastle, but that wasn't nearly as pathetic as it sounds. The sandcastle was over three meters tall, and held an vast army of tiny knights in armor. It was currently being attacked by a horde of tiny transfigured dragons.

The five Weasley siblings were sitting by themselves some distance down the beach. Voldemort knew that the only reason they came along on this trip was because their father had just been released from custody after serving six months for the murder of Severus Snape. He found it very irritating that his first honeymoon had been ruined so that Arthur and Molly Weasley could have their second honeymoon. Perhaps the old witch would get pregnant again.

Bill had his arm around Ginny while he talked to his brothers. The curse-breaker had been working at Gringotts for past six months while he lived at the Burrow, but now that Arthur was home he was taking a job at Hogwarts teaching Transfiguration. Voldemort suspected that Bill was only doing this so he could remain close to his baby sister. Teaching was nowhere near as lucrative as plundering old tombs for the Goblins.

The Longbottoms were also taking jobs at Hogwarts this year. As soon as Horace Slughorn had been promoted to the position of Headmaster he fired Trelawney, Pince, and Hagrid. All of them were quickly replaced by former members of the Slug Club, but that still left the new Headmaster without a DADA professor. In desperation he offered the job to Frank and Alice Longbottom, who would be teaching the class together this year.

Voldemort found it amusing that after all this time people still believed he had cursed the DADA position. All he really did was write a letter to each of the new professors, asking them over for a spot of tea at the end of the school year. A few words from the Dark Lord was more than enough to send them all running, and he never once used his wand.

"Vito," Dora hissed as she drew her wand from the holster strapped to her left calf.

Voldemort also sensed the powerful burst of magic, but he knew what had caused it. "Relax. It's just the Portkey I gave your parents before we left home."

Dora had been nervous about leaving her parents behind, so Voldemort gave them a Portkey which would bring them here to Aesalon in case of an emergency. A minute later he saw his in-laws coming towards the beach. Andromeda was crying, and that meant this wasn't a false alarm.

"Mother, what's wrong? What happened?" Dora asked as the large group of vacationers rushed to greet the two elder Tonks.

"Everything," Andromeda said as she hugged her daughter. "Cissy is dead, and Bella has escaped Azkaban."

"Bellatrix Lestrange has escaped?" a horrified Alice asked.

"Yes. She and ten of the worst Death Eaters are now on the loose, and doing Merlin knows what."

"I wouldn't be surprised if they had killed a few muggles by now, just for old times' sake," Ted muttered darkly.

"What happened to Narcissa?" Frank asked.

"The official story is that she died of Scrofungulus, but I don't believe that for a second. Lucius needs a new heir, which means he needs a young and fertile wife. Preferable one who isn't cheating on him. The bastard wouldn't even let me see my sister's body before he had her cremated," Andromeda hissed.

Voldemort was barely paying attention. After all these years of waiting, Bellatrix was finally outside the walls of Azkaban were he could reach her. It would be a simply matter to convince her to retrieve the Hufflepuff Cup Horcrux from the Lestrange Vault. All he had to do was was make contact with her. But where was she now? And how had she escaped in the first place?

Voldemort had given an endless amount of thought to the question of Azkaban. He knew that Sirius Black had escaped only because he was an Animagus, but his Bella lacked that skill. He figured that it would take at least a dozen strong wizards to break any prisoner out of that hellhole, which was why he hadn't made the attempt.

Then it came to him. A breakout from Azkaban could be done **if** it was an inside job, and who had more access to the Aurors stationed on the island than the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot? Lucius had even murdered his own wife to divert attention away from himself. Voldemort found himself impressed with his former Death Eater. Malfoy needed foot soldiers to terrorize his enemies, and using the Azkaban escapees would allow him to deny involvement with their crimes.

"Mother, you are not returning to the United Kingdom," Dora said. "Not with your sister on the loose."

"Nymphadora, leaving our home in London is not an option for us," Andromeda replied.

"Yes, it is. I know you were offered a job with the Smithsonian Institute in the United States. Dad hates his new conductor, and he has always wanted to try teaching. It would be easy for him to find a job in Washington DC. You have always told me that your sister was insane before she went to Azkaban, and she will only be worse after being subjected to the Dementors."

"Mother, please listen to her." Voldemort loved calling Andromeda mother because it always made her angry. "We would be glad to help you with any moving expenses."

"Do you really think she would come after us?" Ted asked.

"Yes, I do," Alice replied. "We should all return home immediately. As soon as Bellatrix has a wand in her hand, she will be out looking for revenge against the members of the Order of the Phoenix."

"Bill, how are the wards around the Burrow?" Frank asked.

"I've been working on them for the past six months, but your right. We should be getting back."

* * *

But they were already too late. By the time that they finally arrived at the Burrow later that day it was engulfed in flames. Arthur and Molly were hanging from a nearby apple tree, and they had obviously been tortured before they were killed. But the most infuriated thing for Voldemort was the fact that his Dark Mark was floating high in the sky. Lucius had dared to use the Morsmordre for his own purposes.

"We should cut them down," Bill said in a detached voice.

Voldemort shared a look with Dora. It would be better if the words came from her. "Bill, I so sorry. But you know there might be traps set all around the Burrow, and we don't have time to deal with them. The most important thing we can do now is to get the kids to safety."

The new Weasley patriarch wanted to lash out at Dora, but her words made too much sense. "Where do you think we should go? Hogwarts maybe?"

"We won't know if Hogwarts is safe until we gather more information. Vito and I have access to a safe house that the Ministry of Magic doesn't know about."

"You think that this was the work of the Ministry of Magic?" Frank asked as he scanned the area for any remaining Death Eaters.

"What about my father?" Luna suddenly screamed, and it was all the more jarring since the tiny witch never raised her voice.

They didn't have time for any of this, so Voldemort Apparited directly into the Lovegood's home, smashing right through their defensive wards as only a wizard of his skill and power could. Fortunately Xenophilius was not dead. He was just sitting on the loo reading the latest issue of the Quibbler. The two of them quickly returned to the burning Burrow.

"Luna," Xenophilius cried when he saw his daughter. "What in the name of Merlin is going on?"

"We will explain later. Right now I want everyone read this," Dora told everyone as Voldemort made a number of Portkeys. The note in her hand read: _the Finch-Fletchley home is located at Number Two, Kensington Palace Gardens_.

"You two have a safe house located under a Fidelius Charm?" Alice asked in disbelief.

"Vito, there did you learn to make a Portkey?" Frank demanded.

"What about Grans?" Neville asked as Ginny and Ron began to cry in earnest.

"**Silence**!" Voldemort roared. "Unless you all want to be caught in the open and cut down by the Death Eaters, I suggest we take these Portkeys. But if you would rather stay here and die, then be my guest."

Everyone decided to take his offer. When they reached Justin's home in London Voldemort wasn't surprised to find Hermione and her parents waiting for them. Scattered about the posh mansion were dozens of muggleborns and their families, all of whom were members of the A-Level Club.

"Harry, you are alright," Hermione cried. "The wards around our house were attacked, so we came here just like Vito told us to."

"If you don't mind Sir, could you please give us an update on the situation?" Voldemort asked when he saw Justin's father Sebastian Finch-Fletchley enter the room.

"The situation is a disaster, and that is the god-awful truth. All of the homes we had warded were hit, but luckily for us each of the attacking groups was small in size. They tried to trap our people, but your special Portkeys worked perfectly and all the families arrived here safely."

"Vito, what kind of **special** Portkeys have you been making, and where the bloody hell are we?" Frank demanded.

"Hold your tongue wizard," Sebastian snarled. He might have been a muggle, but Justin's father was wealthy and powerful. He was use to giving orders, not taking them. "Vito Potter's foresight has saved dozens of lives tonight, including those of my own family. He doesn't own you a damn thing. Do you understand me?"

"I don't know who you think you are..."

Frank stopped talking when Alice grabbed his arm, and gestured to the group of wizards that had had suddenly surrounded them. They were dressed like muggle soldiers, and they were carrying muggle firearms as well. But it was their wands that got everyone's attention.

"I sorry to interrupt this little pissing contest, but we have to see if Amelia Bones is still alive," Dora said. "She is our best hope if we want to know what's really going on inside of the Ministry of Magic. We should also check-up on Mad-Eye. He has a lot of contacts among the Aurors, both active and retired."

"Those are excellent ideas," Voldemort said. "Sebastian, how many people can you spare? It will only take us about half an hour to see if Director Bones and Auror Moody are still alive."

"I can loan you about twenty as long as you don't get them killed," the muggle replied. "I have a nasty feeling that we're going to need all hands on deck until this mess is over."

"I'm coming with you," Bill offered.

Dora slapped him in the face. "Don't be an arse. You have a family to look after now, and you can't do that if you're dead."

Vito, Dora, and twenty members of the Plebeian Security Company took several Portkeys to a spot just a block from Amelia Bones' London apartment. For the past two years Justin's owl Bianca had been carrying letters between Vito Potter and Sebastian Finch-Fletchley. Voldemort had used this correspondence to educate Justin's father about the many injustices and dangers of the magical world. The man had been horrified by the knowledge of what awaited his only son in the magical world.

But rather than sit back and do nothing, Sebastian spent the next eighteen months preparing for the war Vito Potter warned him was coming. He paid the Goblins to install wards around the houses of Justin's muggleborn friends, and he also created the Plebeian Security Company. All of the wizards and witches Sebastian hired for this new company were muggleborns who had left the magical world in disgust, but their lack of education doom them to menial jobs. Now they were being offered very high salaries... and a chance for revenge against the pureblood patricians. The recruits had spent the last year being training for magical combat by mercenary wizards hired from South Africa. Voldemort hoped this training would be enough to keep them alive, because Lucius probably had them out-numbered by a wide margin.

Amelia's apartment was empty, and there was no signs of a struggle. "She must be with Susan's parents tonight," Dora reasoned. Their squad vanished as soon as Voldemort had created another set of Portkeys.

* * *

"Can you feel all that magic?" Voldemort asked when the reached the edge of the Cornish estate were Susan Bones lived.

"Yes, I do," Dora whispered. "That means Amelia and the others are still alive."

Voldemort turned to face the wizards from Plebeian Security Company. "We are going to try to save this family, but I'm not interested in taking any Death Eater prisoners tonight."

"Good," their leader answered. "Because we don't believe in using Stunners on the bastards either."

Malfoy had sent his best to deal with Amelia, but that wasn't really saying much. The Death Eaters were mostly lowlifes who relied on terror and numbers rather than skill, and the powerful witch they had come to kill was more than holding her own against them. Voldemort couldn't really blame Lucius' planning—back during the war he never saw his minions as anything other than cannon fodder either.

While the new Death Eaters continued their attack, the muggleborns silently move in from behind. Voldemort studied their performance closely. Rather than simply rush the enemy as most wizards tend to do, they moved as a cohesive unit. They sought-out cover, and made sure that they were aware of their comrades' positions at all times. Rather than join the fight, Voldemort and Dora simply watched as their new allies cut the dozen Death Eaters to pieces.

"Auror Potter, is that you?" Amelia asked when the brief fight was all over. "What are you doing here?"

"She was saving your life," Voldemort replied. "Do you have any more stupid questions?"


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's Note**: I posted this story a few years ago under my old pen name, but later deleted it. Now I'm posting it again.

* * *

"Auror Potter I can't believe that you brought this... child into the middle of a combat situation," Amelia Bones said, her voice dipping with disdain.

Six months ago that comment would have brought Dora to tears, but not anymore. "Piss off. Vito's magic is stronger than mine—or yours, I'd wager. Do you have any information about that's going at the Ministry of Magic?"

"No, I've been busy dealing with these Death Eaters. They deployed a ward to block our escape, and then they attacked the house. I managed to hold them off until you and your unknown friends got here. Who are they, and what are they doing here?"

"This is a waste of time," Voldemort grumbled.

"Auror Potter, I won't ask again. What is going on?"

Dora took a deep breath, and stood up as straight as she could. It had been a long day. "My friends and I returned from an overseas vacation when we learned about the mass breakout from Azkaban. When we reached Ottery St. Catchpole we found the mutilated bodies of Arthur and Molly Weasley. Their home was on fire with the Dark Mark floating above. We learned from... other sources that the houses of several muggleborn students from Hogwarts had also been attacked, but they managed to escape in time. I thought it would be prudent to report to you, rather than risk going to the Ministry of Magic without any backup."

Amelia was looking down at the dead bodies surrounding her family's ancestral home. They were wearing the distinctive white masks of the Death Eaters, something which hadn't been seen in over ten years. "How did these muggleborn students escape while Arthur and Molly Weasley were captured and killed?"

Voldemort was impressed. The witch didn't miss a thing. "I have been urging my friends to prepare for the worst now that Albus Dumbledore is dead."

Amelia glared at him. "And these people you brought with you tonight? Are they more of your muggleborn friends?"

"That really isn't any of your business," Voldemort said. He then gave a signal to Sebastian's men, who quickly activated their Portkeys. The last thing the employees of the Plebeian Security Company wanted to do was be questioned by the purebloods of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Seeing that her superior was about to explode Dora quickly cut-in. "We were just about to check on Mad-Eye Moody. Would you care to join us?"

What his wife was really asking was if Amelia was brave (or stupid) enough to travel to the Ministry of Magic without knowing what awaited her. There might have already been a coup in the Wizengamot. By now she and her family could be wanted criminals marked for execution.

"Yes, I think we should pay Alastor a visit," Amelia finally said.

After sending Susan and her parents to a safe location, the three of them Apparited to Mad-Eye's house. The second they arrived they were nearly cursed by the paranoid Auror and his three friends. Dedalus Diggle and Elphias Doge had both been members of the Order of the Phoenix, but the real surprise was the third wizard. Aberforth Dumbledore was gifted duelist, but he rarely left the Hog's Head Pub. The four old wizards were gathered around the bodies of several dead Death Eaters.

"Alastor, I need a status report," Amelia said.

"I was in Hogsmeade drinking some Firewhiskey with Dedalus and Elphias when some idiot tripped the wards around by house. Aberforth came with us to check it out, and we found these Death Eaters. We finished them off about five minutes ago, and since then we've been arguing about what to do next."

While the others were exchanging information Voldemort pondered the strategic situation. Lucius Malfoy was an aristocrat, and like most aristocrats he was inherently lazy. This plan to take over the country as the next Dark Lord was too bold, and it was clear he wanted to settle the whole affair in a single night. Didn't anyone know the value of patience anymore? Voldemort had spent several **decades** working towards his ultimate rise to power.

Still, he had to admit that Lucius' plan might have worked if he had focused on fewer targets. To waste valuable resources on an insignificant bureaucrat like Arthur Weasley just because of a personal quarrel. That sort of thing wasn't worthy of a potential Dark Lord.

"I say we attack," Voldemort declared, a bold statement that caught everyone's attention.

"I am not interested in the opinion of a schoolboy," Amelia snapped.

"Considering the fact that you and your family would be dead if it wasn't for my husband, maybe you should be," Dora shot back.

Mad-Eye always responded well to aggression in his Aurors, so he gave his trainee and her husband the benefit of the doubt. "Attack with what boy? We only have a handful of loyal wands."

"We attack with my brother," Voldemort replied. "We should march into the Ministry of Magic with the Boy-Who-Lived as our leader. Then we demand to know what in the name of Merlin is going on."

"What if Malfoy and his friends are waiting for us?"

"Do you really think he is behind all this?' Dora asked

"Who else has the contacts and resources to put something this size together?" was Mad-Eye answer.

"I agree, but all these attacks will have stretched Malfoy's resources to the breaking point," Voldemort said. "I doubt he has anyone left to spare for the Ministry itself, but that will change if we give him time to regroup. We have to move now."

"Potter's argument makes sense to me," a grinning Mad-Eye said. "I can get a hold of Kingsley Shacklebolt and a few other Aurors who I know are loyal to our side. We were always reacting to events during the last war. How would you like to go on the offensive for a change?"

"Where is Harry now?" Amelia asked.

"At a safe house," Dora replied. "The location of which we have no intention of share with you or anyone else from the Ministry. We can't afford to take any risks with the lives of the muggleborn students."

"Let me guess: this is connected to all the work your mysterious friends have been doing. The last time I checked it was illegal to build your own personal army of wizards."

"Everything Vito and I have done is well within the law," Dora replied carefully.

That was the truth, since Voldemort knew all the little loopholes the purebloods had written into legal code for their own benefit. Nothing he or Sebastian Finch-Fletchley had done would get them convicted by a fair and impartial Wizengamot. On second thought, maybe they should be worried about Azkaban

* * *

An hour later an unusual little army entered the Ministry of Magic through the secret Floo located in Mad-Eye's office. It was so secret—and so illegal—that neither Director Bones nor Minister Fudge knew of its existence. The three Potters had been joined by Frank Longbottom, while Director Bones now had a dozen loyal Aurors at her command. What they lacked in numbers though they more than made up for in raw magical strength. That was a good thing, considering the disaster they found when they reached the underground hall where Wizengamot held its meetings.

"Lucius Malfoy, what business do you have before the Wizengamot this day?" Frank asked as he took his traditional seat. The Longbottom family had been prominent members of the Wizengamot since it was founded several centuries ago.

"Are you sure you are well enough to join us Longbottom? As I recall your mother does all your voting for you," Malfoy said in a confident voice. That confidence was justified. Over half the members present were in his pocket one way or another.

"My mother August Longbottom—a pureblood for thirteen generations—is dead. Our ancient manor is in flames," Frank replied. "She was murder by cowards in white masks and black robes, but I am proud to tell the the Wizengamot that she took seven of them with before her death. Arthur and Molly Weasley have also been murdered. Another fine pair of **purebloods** have been taken from us by these masked cowards."

This news shocked Minister Fudge and his supporters. Voldemort doubted that Cornelius had any idea of what Lucius had planned, or how many deaths would be involved. Killing some random muggleborns was one thing, but killing your fellow purebloods... that was beyond the pale.

"We are terrible sorry for your loss," Fudge mumbled

"Thank you Minister," Frank said. "Now I will ask you again Malfoy, what business do you have before the Wizengamot?"

"I take it you are aware of the Meliflua Manifesto? I believe it is long past time we put its worthy ideas to a vote."

Voldemort barely kept a straight face. The Meliflua Manifesto was named after the late Araminta Meliflua, a notorious witch of the Black family and a personal hero of Bellatrix. It was a hodgepodge of several laws, all of which heavily favored the purebloods over those of those with less exalted blood. Old Araminta Meliflua had even wanted to legalize muggle-hunting again.

While in theory the Ministry of Magic treated all wizards and witches as equals regardless of blood status, in reality the purebloods always got their way. The Meliflua Manifesto would take all those unofficial privileges, and turn them into official laws the Ministry of Magic would then be obligated to enforce. If the Manifesto passed it would leave the purebloods with a complete stranglehold over both the Ministry of Magic and the magical economy. Voldemort had made vague promises to pass the Manifesto during his rise to power, but he had never taken it seriously. It would have given far too much power to his supporters, and he had never been interested in sharing anything—especially political power.

"Lucius, you can't be serious," Amelia said as she glanced around at all the hostile faces. Both sides were evenly matched, and a single spell could quickly turn the Wizengamot into a bloodbath. "If we pass half of those laws, we will find ourselves at war with the muggles in a matter of months."

"Amelia, I can assure you that I am perfect serious. These latest attacks only shown how desperately we need to strengthen..."

Voldemort stopped listening to Lucius' speech, because he had given the exact same one a hundred times before. Instead he watched the faces of the members of the Wizengamot. They were a frightened bunch. None of them wanted another war, but they all understood that Lucius was threatening to start one if he didn't get the new laws he was demanding.

The elderly wizards and witches were also glancing at the Boy-Who-Lived when they thought no one was paying attention. Harry was never going to be tall, and his lack of height made him look even younger than his age. Meanwhile Lucius was in his prime: he would never be as powerful or as forceful or as handsome as he was right at this moment. Comparing these two possible leaders the choice for most was obvious. Lucius had been right to move now before Harry got any older.

If something didn't change soon they were going to lose the vote—and possibly their lives—so Voldemort decided to play his trump card. For years he had been making plans to use the Dark Mark, but those plans would have to be sacrificed for the greater good. He grasped his wand and sent a subtle pulse of magic out into the hall. The runic tattoos he had used to brand his followers was a crude weapon, but he wasn't being graded on style tonight.

"And the current stress on our infrastructure would be alleviated..." Lucius was saying; then he suddenly stopped. He tried to fight it for several seconds, but the magic Voldemort had released made his arm feel as if it was being lowered into a vat of molten iron. Lucius dropped to his knees and began screaming in pain. He was soon joined by a dozen other members of the Wizengamot.

"What is wrong with all of you?" Minister Fudge hissed.

"What do you think is wrong with him, you idiot," Harry said as he rushed forward and grabbed Malfoy's arm. He then cut away the older wizard's robes and exposed the Dark Mark. Voldemort had taught his brother plenty of useful information over the years.

"It's the bloody Dark Mark. This man is a Death Eater, but you're all treating him as if he was just another member of the Wizengamot. He is a common criminal. Deserves nothing but your contempt, and a cell in Azkaban."

Now **this** was the powerful and confident Boy-Who-Lived that the members of the Wizengamot had hoping and praying for. They probably thought Harry was the one attacking the Death Eaters. The bloody fools. Now that Voldemort had made his point, he canceled the spell. His former servants immediately collapsed in relief.

Over the next few hours Lucius and the others claimed they only taken the Dark Mark because of the Imperius Curse, but the damage was done. Any talk of voting on the Meliflua Manifesto was dismissed, and the coup was finished before it even began. Meanwhile Frank Longbottom was demanding justice for those who had been killed, but all the Minister wanted to do was keep the peace. Fudge promised an extensive investigation into the attacks, but everyone knew nothing would come of it. Both sides were being forced to walk away empty-handed, so the fragile status quo could be kept intact. At least for a few more months.

* * *

If there was one thing Voldemort would have liked Dora to change about her appearance it would have been her lack of body hair. His wife only had hair above her neck, and that was the way she liked it. However as he ran his fingers through Bellatrix's mass of dark pubic hair he wonder if Dora knew what she was missing.

It had been a simple matter to call Bellatrix to his side now that she was out of Azkaban. Voldemort sent his most loyal follower a message using her personalized Dark Mark. Once the witch arrived at their old rendezvous point in the Lake District he cast a Stunner on her before she could see his new body.

Bellatrix's skeletal appearance had shocked Voldemort, so he brought her back to the Chamber of Secrets and gave her a massive dose of the Elixir of Life. It had strengthened her body, but her mental health was far more problematic. She had never been particularly stable to begin with.

"Where am I?" Bellatrix demanded when he revived her.

The witch was floating in the air, completely naked. The the Elixir of Life had done an outstanding job restoring her lovely figure. It was a pity about those side-effects.

"In the Chamber of Secrets," Voldemort replied as he leaned against Ouroboros. Hopefully the presence of the great basilisk would help convinced Bellatrix of the truth.

"Only my Lord knows the true location of the Chamber of Secrets."

"Yes, my dear Bella. I have returned to you at last."

"That is impossible," she hissed. "I have seen pictures of you in the _Daily Prophet_. You are James Potter's little bastard. The one who married my filthy mudblood niece."

Instead of answering Voldemort walked over to witch, and again ran his hand through her thick pubic hair. He then cast a powerful Gräfenberg Hex directly into the pleasure center of her brain. Using pain to interrogate Bellatrix Lestrange would have been a waste of time and magic, since she could tolerate even the most powerful Cruciatus Curse. She was much more susceptible to the effects of pleasure.

"How did you do that?" Bellatrix cried as her whole body spasmed uncontrollably. "Only one wizard I know could use his magic in that fashion."

"Do you remember the first time we meet? You were just nineteen years old, but you already had the nerve to challenge me to a duel. You said you had to see for yourself if I was worthy of my title as the Dark Lord. I thought that poor Rodolphus was going to have a heart attack on the spot," Voldemort recalled with a smile. "I toyed with you for several minutes until you were angry enough to cast a Castration Curse. I was so aroused by your impudence that I took you right there on the dueling platform."

Voldemort then cast another Gräfenberg Hex. "Do you remember Bella?"

"My Lord, how is this possible?" she asked between gasps of breath. "That body... you are just a boy."

"The origins of my new body is a story for another time. What I **must** know now is if the Hufflepuff Cup is still in your Vault."

"I believe so, my Lord."

"Think Bella, think. Did you give your sister Narcissa or any other members of your family access to that Vault?" Voldemort asked as he cast another Gräfenberg Hex.

"No, my Lord," she whimpered as the waves of pleasure racked her body. "You told me to protect the Hufflepuff Cup with my life, so not even Rodolphus or his brother Rabastan have direct access to the Lestrange Vault."

"Excellent. We must retrieve that Cup... no matter the cost."

"My Lord, I would be honored to slaughter the Goblins if that is your desire. Shall we leave for Gringotts now?"

"No. I must make certain preparations before we can visit Diagon Ally," he replied in a distracted voice as he turned to leave.

"Stay with me, my Lord," a desperate Bellatrix said. "Please, it has been so long."

The husky tenor of her voice caught Voldemort's attention, and he glance back at her naked and sweaty body. After all this time he still wanted her, and he saw no reason not to take her. So he did, right there on the cold stone floor of the Chamber of Secrets. It was only afterwards that he thought of Dora.

_Is this what guilt feels like?_ he wondered. It was an emotion he had never experienced before.


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's Note**: I posted this story a few years ago under my old pen name, but later deleted it. Now I'm posting it again.

* * *

"This isn't fair. You are casting with your left hand," Bellatrix whined as they danced their way through the animal cages that lined the Chamber of Secrets. And that is what dueling with her always felt like to Voldemort. Dancing, but with the possibility of a horrible death at any second.

"Did I just hear you correctly? Did my most gifted Death Eater just suggest that a duel should be fair?" Voldemort asked as he effortlessly blocked another one of her curses.

"And the power of your spells is pathetic," Bellatrix raged as she continued to give ground. "You are casting like a bloody Hufflepuff. Did you learn that from my whore of a niece?"

That last comment was going too far, so Voldemort finished her off with a simple Leg-Locker Curse because he knew it would humiliate her. "I have told you not to insult Dora."

Bellatrix looked up at him with a sneer on her beautiful face. "Dora is it? Did she also teach you how to screw like a Hufflepuff? You were so kind and gentle with me last night that I thought I was going to fall asleep."

"Crucio."

This is why Voldemort had challenged her to a practice duel. They needed to clear the air before he could risk taking her to Gringotts. He kept her under for nearly a minute, and it was disturbing to hear how similar her screams of agony were to her screams of pleasure.

"Thank you, my Lord," she said in a hoarse voice when it was over.

"Percy," Voldemort shouted. The boy had been cowering in fear on the far side of the Chamber of Secrets during the duel. "Run a diagnostic on Mrs Lestrange, and tell me what you find."

The ginger quickly obeyed. "My Lord, I don't understand. You had her under the Cruciatus Curse for a minute, but there is none of the neurological damage you would expect to find after that length of exposure. Did I perform the diagnostic correctly?"

"Don't worry, your results are correct," Voldemort assured him. "In the past my spells were too powerful. But over the years I learn to produce the same effect while using far less magic than a common wizard... or witch. It is not a sign of weakness, but rather a testament to my genius. Am I making myself clear?"

"Yes, my Lord," a disgruntled Bellatrix said. "When do we leave for Gringotts? I am looking forward to slaughtering some Goblins."

Voldemort simply stared at his psychotic servant until she lowered her eyes. "I told you before that we aren't going to kill anyone. I may have the body of a boy, but if you disobey my orders I will not hesitate to kill you. We have time for another practice duel, so get on your feet."

* * *

Little Whinging had never seen anything like the invasion of wizards and witches that occurred after Sebastian Finch-Fletchley kicked the Longbottoms and the Weasleys out of his London home. The muggle even insisted that Vito Potter break his Fidelius Charm, and recast it so that no purebloods would know his family's address. Since the Death Eaters had destroyed their homes the Longbottoms and the Weasleys didn't have anywhere to stay. At least they didn't until Harry decided to open a bloody hotel.

At first he was furious with his brother, but the idea wasn't as stupid as it first seemed. Over the years Voldemort had been secretly helping Petunia's husband Jim Cortland at work, and by now his landscaping firm was one of the largest in South East England. In truth Voldemort enjoyed the process of muscling-out competitors and illegally securing government contracts for his new Uncle Jim. The firm was so successful that last year he and Aunt Petunia bought an apartment in the fashionable Belgravia neighborhood of London. That left Number Three, Privet Drive empty.

With the excess gold from the Philosopher's Stone Voldemort had secretly purchased Number Five, Privet Drive. Then using a liberal amount of magic he built a subbasement connecting the three properties. As much as he hated to admit it, there was plenty of room for all the refuges, and the powerful Blood Wards around the Little Whinging would protect them all from the Death Eaters.

"Uncle Algie offered to take us in, but since we found out about him dropping Neville out of a window neither Frank nor I feel comfortable around the old geezer," Alice said a week ago when the Longbottoms moved into Number Three, Privet Drive. "So we can't thank you enough for allowing us to stay here for the summer."

"You should really be thanking my mother Lily, since she was the one who created these special wards to protect me," Harry explained. "At least that is what Vito thinks happened."

"Are you sure?" Bill asked. He and the rest of the Weasley brats had moved into Number Five, Privet Drive. "I have never seen anything like these wards outside of a few of the most dangerous tombs in Egypt and Mesopotamia."

"Yes, I am sure," Voldemort told them. "And before Albus Dumbledore finally went insane he agreed with my assessment."

In the weeks that followed the two families settled in a bit too well for his liking. For the first time in their sheltered lives Neville and the Weasleys discovered the joys of the television. They were also allowed to use magic thanks to the blanket waiver the Potter brothers had from he Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery. These minor distractions helped the children cope with the tragic loss of their loved ones. On a related note Bill was spending a great deal of time comforting Frank and Alice. But who was Voldemort to judge their unusual relationship, since he was having an affair with his wife's Aunt?

Speaking of Dora: she had moved into Number Four on a full-time basis. Her cottage in Hogsmeade was well protected, but they both felt it was safer here behind the Blood Wards now that Lucius had started his reign of terror. Dora also enjoyed the large meals the three families shared together. She was an only child who had all sorts of fantasies about brothers and sisters. Voldemort thought that was odd, considering the dreadful stories her mother must have told her about the Bellatrix and Narcissa.

"So Dora, what is the latest gossip among the Aurors?" Frank asked when Harry and the brats left the table to wash the dishes. "Is there any word on what the Minister is going to do next?"

"Fudge and his pet toad Delores Umbridge are doing everything they can to slow down the investigation of all the recent Death Eater activity. Mad-Eye says that he has seen this kind of thing before, and that a stubborn Minister of Magic can delay matters for around six months without breaking any laws," Dora explained.

"So Malfoy and his allies are just going to get away with multiple murders," a furious Bill remarked.

"I wouldn't say that," Voldemort offered. "Lucius overplayed his hand and everyone knows it. If he wants to be the next Dark Lord people have to be afraid of him, but who is afraid of a failure?"

Alice was studying him closely. "Vito Potter, you have excellent political judgment for a thirteen year-old."

Dora just laughed. "What, did you all think I married him for his beautiful gray eyes? He is genius, and not just with the books. I should show you some of our duels in the Pensieve. He knows more obscure curses and hexes than anyone I've ever met."

"You have a working Pensieve?" Bill asked.

"Fawkes," Dora called out, and the phoenix flew down from its perch. "Would you please bring the Pensieve here for me? Normally I would never ask, but my paranoid husband doesn't trust the Floo network. And with all the defensive wards we have set-up..."

They phoenix nodded its head and left in a ball of flames. Voldemort still couldn't understand the bird's current behavior. Fawkes was devoted to his wife despite the fact that she was married to a Dark Lord. As time passed he was more and more convinced that Dumbledore had simply made-up the whole "Symbols of the Light"nonsense to hide his numerous failings. A minute later another ball of flames appeared in the dining room, but this time the phoenix was carrying a large crystal bowl in its talons.

Bill let out a low whistle as he studied the numerous and complex runes etched into the Pensieve. "That is an incredible piece of work. Do you have any idea how much one of these would cost you today? And that is if you can find one, which is almost impossible."

Dora was already using her wand to pull a memory from her mind. "Come on, you got to see the level of detail it provides."

Frank and Bill joined her in Pensieve, but Alice declined. She seemed more interested in continuing their conversation.

"You know when I first heard about your marriage I thought Nymphadora should have been put in chains, and then flogged right in the middle of Diagon Alley."

Voldemort shrugged-off her comment. "We had to marry at such a young age because several influential purebloods wanted their own pet Metamorphmagus."

Alice nodded. "So you did it to protect her from a marriage contract."

"I did it because I love her," Voldemort replied.

"Frank and I never properly thank you and Harry for buying Neville his first wand. I know Augusta meant well, but giving him his father's wand was a serious mistake."

"My brother is a generous person." _Far too generous_, Voldemort thought.

"When you rejected our offer back on during the holidays we all thought you were just being arrogant children, but you were right about Dumbledore. We didn't see the signs of his decline, and it cost us so much. Augusta was a tough witch, and she could have easily lasted for another fifty years," Alice said. "I want you to tell Harry that we are with him. I know it's not fair to ask so much of a boy, but if he doesn't lead us Lucius and his friends will end up destroying everything we hold dear."

"And what about Amelia Bones, Alastor Moody, and Amos Diggory? Will they be able to follow behind the banner of a teenage wizard?"

Alice smiled and gestured towards the resting Fawkes. "Vito, the leader of the Order of the Phoenix isn't chosen by a popular vote. He is chosen by the Light."

* * *

"Stop fidgeting, and act naturally," Voldemort told Bellatrix as they made their way down Diagon Alley towards Gringotts.

"How can I act naturally when I look like this?"

Voldemort conceded her point. While the pureblood witch must have worn dragon-hide boots at one point or another in her life, the same could not be said of muggle jeans. And they were a very tight pair of muggle jeans. Then there was the purple t-shirt which left Bellatrix's flat stomach bare, something which she was desperately trying to hide with her red leather jacket.

But the worst indignity was her hair. Voldemort had forced Bellatrix to cut-off her long black locks, and then dyed what was left pink. Everything had been done by muggle methods, because the whole point of this charade was to avoid using any magic.

Voldemort had been shocked by the results by this fashion make-over. Intellectually he knew that Dora and her Aunt looked alike, but with only a few minor changes they were as identical as Fred and George Weasley or Parvati and Padma Patil. When he saw Bellatrix wearing that outfit this morning he couldn't control himself. That was why they were now an hour behind schedule.

But that first impression had been taken back in the gloom of the Chamber of Secrets. Out here in the harsh light of day the differences between the two were more evident. Even the Elixir of Life itself couldn't totally erase the crow's feet around Bellatrix's eyes, or the faint winkles on her forehead.

"How can you be so sure that the Goblins will allow this? You have never trusted them before."

"I told you **Dora**, we did this sort of thing back during the war and it always worked. I will grant you that by tomorrow the nasty little beasts will have sold the information about your visit to the Ministry of Magic, but that has no bearing on our plans today."

"Vito! Tonks!" a familiar voice cried from across the Alley.

"Just my luck," Voldemort muttered. He then turned and waved to his fellow Hufflepuff. "Hello Diggory. How is your shopping going today? Did you buy a nice present for Granger?"

That comment turned the boy's face bright red. "Come on Vito, she was just helping me with my Muggle Studies class."

"Isn't it kind of difficult to study in a broom closet?" Voldemort asked.

"Cor blimey, there is nothing to be ashamed about," Bellatrix said in a very poor imitation of Dora's voice. "The way I see it you have to get them young, so you can train them properly."

"I guess that is one way of looking at it." By now Cedric looked as if he wanted to crawl under a rock and die. "My friends are waiting for me at the Leaky Cauldron, so I will see you on the Hogwarts Express."

After they watched the Hufflepuff flee for his life Voldemort turned to Bellatrix. "That was acceptable, but you did laid it on a bit thick."

"I am a pureblood witch and a duelist. I have no desire to become a common actress."

"All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players."

"Quoting the muggles, my husband?" Bellatrix asked as they entered Gringotts and joined one of the queues. "I never thought I would live long enough to see that happened."

"You have never complained about my fondness for the Bard before," Voldemort pointed out. "In fact you seemed to enjoy the St Crispin's Day speech when I recited it this morning."

"I always wondered what you were saying in Parseltongue down there."

"Now you know."

"Next," the goblin teller bellowed. "What do you what?"

"I want access to this Vault," Bellatrix said as she handed the beast a key that she had wisely hidden before being sent to Azkaban. "This specific Vault, and I will need **five minutes**."

The words five minutes were a code which meant the customer was offering a five thousand galleon bribe in return for coöperation and secrecy. This amount was high, but not unheard of—especially considering the result Death Eater activity. The beast gave them a hard look, and its beady eyes suddenly opened wide. Goblins might have a had time telling one human from another, but his wife's pink hair was memorable. Voldemort's gamble had paid off.

"Follow me Mrs and Mr Potter, I will take you down to the Lestrange Vault myself."

The teller assumed that since Dora and Bellatrix were related by blood she had stolen her Aunt's key, and was planning to rob her Vault. Inter-family theft was common (and quasi-legal) in the magical world, and Gringotts was happy to look the other way in return for a healthy bribe.

As the cart passed through the Thief's Downfall Voldemort felt a chill run through his body. The foul Goblin magic removed any Concealment Spells from a wizard or witch, but it had no effect on Bellatrix. After passing by a blind guardian dragon they finally reached the Lestrange Vault.

"Do not disturb us," Bellatrix hissed as she closed the Vault door behind them.

"Now you said that everything was protected by Geminio and Flagrante?" Voldemort asked as he used his magic to search the through the contents of the Vault. When he was sure he had located all the traps a flick of his wand disabled them. Then he reached down and grasped the Hufflepuff Cup. After all these years his soul and his magic would once again be complete.

"My Lord, you said that this ritual was very painful. Are you sure you wish to undergo it here at Gringotts? Perhaps we should return to the Chamber of Secrets," Bellatrix suggested.

"No, I have waited too long for this moment. I will not wait any longer." Voldemort spoke the ancient incantation and fell to the floor of the Vault in agony.

* * *

"That looked enjoyable, my Lord. Would it be possible for me to experience it myself?" Bellatrix asked.

"I would have to kill you first," a groggy Voldemort replied, a prospect the witch didn't seem to mind. "How long was I unconscious?"

"Nearly three hours. The Goblins must think that we are trying to conceive a child on the piles of gold galleons. I once heard a rumor that all their children are spawned in such a fashion."

Voldemort laughed as he hadn't laughed in years. "Oh Bella, how I have missed you. You are such a rare combination of power, beauty, and wit."

That compliment earned him one of her rare blushes. Voldemort seized his wand, and felt his magic surged through him. Allof his magic. He was once again the most powerful wizard in the world. A true Dark Lord.

"Come along, we wasted too much time already."

When they made it back up to the crowded lobby of the Gringotts, Voldemort reached into his pocket and pulled out a Sugar Quill. He then transfigured it into a short sword and stabbed Bellatrix in the back. The sword cut her heart clean in half before exiting the front of her chest in a geyser of hot blood.

"I'm truly sorry," Voldemort whispered in Bellatrix's ear as she dropped to her knees. "But I have Dora now. You are just an older and inferior model whose services I no longer require."


	24. Chapter 24

**Author's Note**: I posted this story a few years ago under my old pen name, but later deleted it. Now I'm posting it again.

* * *

"Do not move wizard," a Goblin warrior in heavy armor snarled. Several more were emerging from hidden doors around the lobby of Gringotts, and they were all carrying bladed weapons.

"I have not use my wand to attack anyone, so I have not broken the Treaty between our two races," Voldemort said calmly as he set Bellatrix's dead body on the polished floor.

The Treaty between the Ministry of Magic and the Goblins was the reason the beasts were carrying spears instead of wands. They were the only weapons the Goblins could use if anyone attempted to steal from Gringotts. In return wizards were not allow to use any magic inside the bank. Voldemort had taken advantage of this loophole by stabbing Bellatrix rather than cursing her.

"You murdered your wife!" a young witches cried.

"This is not my wife. This is Bellatrix Lestrange. Now will someone please find the Aurors patrolling Diagon Alley, and bring them here before the Goblins start another rebellion."

Voldemort's commanding attitude inspired obedience, and several witches ran out into the Alley. Meanwhile the Goblins were busy conferring about the dead body. They knew that profits always suffered during a rebellion, so they preferred to have the Aurors deal with this mess. At the same time they had to be sure that Gringotts wouldn't be held legally responsible, so Voldemort wasn't going anywhere until they were satisfied. The first Aurors arrived in under two minutes. After ten minutes they had been joined by over half the Ministry of Magic—including his anxious wife.

"I can't believe how much she looks like me." Dora whispered as she clung to her husband in a very unprofessional manner.

"I'm sorry I had to kill her, but she said she going to go after Harry next. I couldn't let that happen. I knew that even if she killed me here in Gringotts, the Goblins would capture her before she could escape from the lobby."

"How did you break her Imperius Curse?" Amelia asked. The witch was personally overseeing the investigation, and Minister Fudge made it clear she was to keep the Goblins happy. "Bellatrix Lestrange was a powerful witch, and it looks like her physical health wasn't affected by her time in Azkaban."

"It was the Thief's Downfall," Voldemort lied. "The Goblin's magic freed me from the Imperius Curse. From that point on I was just playing along while we searched her Vault."

"I agree. The young wizard was greatly affected when our mining cart rode through the Thief's Downfall," explained the Goblin teller who had escorted them down to the Lestrange Vault. "But the magic didn't affect the dead witch at all."

"What I want to know is why she risked coming to Gringotts at all?" Mad-Eye asked. "Her Death Eater friends already have access to plenty of galleons. If she had successfully kidnapped Vito Potter, then why not use him to kill Harry Potter?"

"I think I can answer that question," Voldemort said. "Lestrange told me she had to retrieve three priceless artifacts that her late Master hid in her Vault. I think the Death Eaters were planning an attack on Hogwarts, and needed these artifacts for some reason."

Voldemort reached into his robes, and pulled several items out his Mokeskin pouch. He carefully placed the Hufflepuff Cup, the Ravenclaw Diadem, and the Slytherin Locket in front of the group of amazed Aurors. Now that he had reabsorbed his Horcruxes these Heirlooms of the Founders posed a threat to his safety. Dumbledore knew that a young Tom Riddle was obsessed with objects that belonged to the Founders, and if they were found in Vito Potter's procession someone might make the connection between his two separate lives. But by blaming everything on Bellatrix, Voldemort could get rid of them **and** take credit for their miraculous recovery at the same time.

Amelia was studying the Heirlooms closely. "By the spirit of the great Merlin. Lestrange said these are authentic?"

"Why else would a wanted criminal take the risk of coming to Gringotts?" Mad-Eye reasoned. "If the Death Eaters were planning to attack Hogwarts then having something from each of the Founders might have allowed them to bypass the wards that surround the castle."

"This is all very interesting, but can we get back to the matter at hand," a high-ranking Goblin asked. "In the view of the Ministry of Magic is Gringotts in any way responsible for this death?"

"No," Amelia told him. "Vito Potter was acting in self-defense against a dangerous Death Eater who was known to be mentally unstable. There will be no charges filed against him. Or Gringotts."

"Do I have your oath on that Director Bones?" the goblin asked.

"Yes, you do."

* * *

It was a month into the school year before the Ministry of Magic finally handed over Bellatrix's body to her closest living relative. Since her husband Rodolphus Lestrange was still a fugitive from justice, that meant Andromeda and Ted Tonks had to return from the United States. Despite all the bad history between the two sisters, Andromeda still intended to carry out Bellatrix's unorthodox wishes in regards to her funeral.

"Surely you can't be serious?" Dora asked her mother as the four of them gathered on the rocky shore of the Black Lake.

The question brought a sad smile to Andromeda's face. "I am serious, but don't call me Shirley."

"I should have never taken the Marauders to see _Airplane_," Ted complained. "Sirius and those clowns ran that lame joke into the ground."

"They are all dead: Sirius, Regulus, Cissy, and now Bella. An entire generation of the Black Family is gone forever," Andromeda said in a haunted voice. "All except for me."

"Mother, Fiendfyre is unbelievable dangerous to the witch that tries to cast it. You could be killed, and fulfilling your insane sister's last request isn't worth the risk."

Bellatrix had often told Voldemort about her desire to be consumed by Fiendfyre after her death. All her life she had vivid nightmares that her body would be dissected, and sold off as potion ingredients. She was also convinced that her heart would become the core of a powerful wand, and that her soul would forever be trapped inside of it. Because of these fears she wanted her body totally consumed by fire. It made sense in a Bellatrix kind-of-way. After all, the witch had been insane.

"Don't worry Dora. I will do it," Voldemort offered.

"Vito, that will not be necessary," Andromeda told him.

"Yes, it is. I killed your sister, and I owe her this."

"Son, it was self-defense," Ted told him. "Bellatrix would have killed you in a heartbeat, and it wouldn't have even tickled her conscience the next day. Never doubt that you did the right thing."

"Still, I'm the strongest of the four of us, so I will do it," Voldemort insisted.

Killing Bellatrix had been essential to his plans for the future, but he would still miss her warped soul. Voldemort was also looking forward to casting Fiendfyre again. A week ago he had used the Dark Curse to sterilize the Chamber of Secrets. His experiments on the Elixir of Life were now concluded, and Ouroboros wanted his lair free of any unpleasant guests. That included Percy Weasley. The boy had been useful, but anyone who knew his true identity had to be eliminated—for the greater good.

"He's right mother. Vito is the only one who has the strength needed to control a spell that powerful," Dora explained.

Andromeda took a deep breath. "Very well, but please be careful."

While the Tonks family was alone with Bellatrix's body, Voldemort knew there was an audience watching them from a distance. He wanted to put on a fine show, so with a grand flourish he drew the new Elder Wand from his robes and summoned his magic. Normally he would have created a fire serpent as he had done down in the Chamber of Secrets, but that simply wouldn't do today.

Instead his Fiendfyre took the shape of a giant phoenix as it consumed the lifeless body. Voldemort wasn't even challenging himself, so he poured more and more of his magic into the flames. The phoenix grew in size until it could easily be seen from both Hogwarts and Hogsmeade. Finally bird of pure fire soared into the sky until it reached the white clouds and disappeared from view. Lord Voldemort was finally dead. Now it was time to begin creating a new legend. The legend of Vito Potter.

* * *

Later that night Dora and Vito were getting ready for bed after saying goodnight to her parents. Rather than living at their cottage in Hogsmeade this year, the couple had asked Headmaster Slughorn for permission to move into one of apartments Hogwarts set aside for married students. Unlike that puritanical wanker Dumbledore, Slughorn had been more than happy to grant a personal favor to the brother of the Boy-Who-Lived and his wife the famous Metamorphmagus. Ted and Andromeda were staying across the hall, and they planned on returning to the Unites States tomorrow after the awards ceremony.

"Vito, you know last week when we went swimming at the Baths with Bill Weasley and the Longbottoms?" Dora asked.

"Yes." It had been a very... _interesting_ evening.

"Well, Alice has been spending out some strange signals to me."

Vito turned to look at his troubled wife. "I think the Longbottoms are just tying to make-up for lost time. They were only in their early twenties when your late Aunt Bellatrix sent them to St Mungo's Hospital."

"So you aren't interested in that sort of thing? I know that Alice is older than me, but she still has a great pair of..."

Vito cut her off. "Dora—you know my preferences in that area. I prefer quality, not quantity. Besides if anyone else touched you, I would have to kill them. Slowly and painfully."

"What if it was another witch who was touching me? Another attractive witch?" she asked with a subtle hint of doubt in her voice. Despite everything they had been through, his young wife was still unsure of herself at times.

"No. You belong to me, and to no one else. Now let's get some sleep. It is going to be a three-ring circus tomorrow."

* * *

The circus in question was the ceremony where the three Heirlooms of the Founders were to be returned to Hogwarts. Minister Fudge and Headmaster Slughorn both loved pomp and circumstance, so the Great Hall had to be magically expanded to accommodate all the VIPs. The Potter brothers were also being given a joint Award for Special Services to Hogwarts. Vito couldn't help but chuckle at this turn of events. It was the same trophy that a young Tom Riddle had received for framing Rubeus Hagrid, and now he was receiving one again for murdering Bellatrix.

"I don't see why I am getting an award too," Harry complained. "You are the one who kill the psycho Lestrange, and recovered the three Heirlooms."

"You're getting an award because you're famous," Vito explained. "Everyone loves the Boy-Who-Lived, and they want you to be happy. So they give you things, even if you haven't earn them or don't need them."

"And I have to go through all this bloody nonsense just because it helps with our fight against Lucius Malfoy?" Harry asked.

"That is essentially correct. You did fine job speaking at Fudge's party two years ago, and that was back when you were just eleven. I promise the speech today will be a lot easier for you."

"I agree," Angelina said as she joined them. "You have been practicing hard all week. Now let me straighten out your dress robe."

"Do you really think the speech is good?" he asked his taller girlfriend.

"I think it's brilliant, just like you," Angelina replied. She then leaned down and gave Harry a deep kiss.

"Now I know which couple Professor Longbottom will be going after next," Dora whispered. "These two are gorgeous together."

"What are you talking about?" Angelina asked.

"Nothing," Vito said before his wife could answer. "Absolutely nothing."

Harry knew about his brother's temper, so he quickly changed the subject. "I have been talking to the Weasley twins, and their fireworks display is ready to go after the ceremony is over. They thank us again for arranging this opportunity. If it goes well they should start getting some orders for their products."

"Minister Fudge likes it when people provided him with free entertainment," Vito remarked. "Besides, the quicker the Weasleys start earning some real galleons, the quicker they can more out of Little Whinging."

Angelina rolled her eyes. "You are all heart Vito."

Horace Slughorn was old and lazy, but he could put on a fine show when he wanted to. To that end the Headmaster had brought the Sword of Gryffindor down from his office for the ceremony. That afternoon the Sword, the Diadem, the Cup, and the Locket were prominently displayed in the Great Hall for the entire crowd to see. Given the important role the four Founders had played in the history of the magical world, many were moved to tears by the spectacle.

"I must regretfully inform the eagles that the Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw will not be available for use during your OWLs or NEWTs," Headmaster Slughorn said to much laughter during his opening remarks.

The mood was more sober when he spoke of Salazar Slytherin's Locket. "I consider it a tremendous privilege to be able to return this Locket to a place of honor here at Hogwarts, the school which Salazar loved so very much"

Of course the badgers show no such decorum when Slughorn raised Helga Hufflepuffs' Cup into the air. They all started banging on the table, demanding a speech from Harry.

A few minutes later the two brothers stepped forward to receive their award, and that is when Vito felt it. It appears that Lucius being a clever wizard for once. He had transformed their Award for Special Services to Hogwarts trophy into a Portkey. A Portkey which would take the troublesome brothers to their deaths. There was a "Lucius Malfoy" sitting in the crowd, but he was probably an imposter. The real Malfoy would be at the ambush that awaited them. Should he go through with it or not?

_Why not?_ Vito thought to himself. _It will be fun._

He activated the Portkey early before it could trap Harry, and then felt the distinctive pull on his navel. The Death Eaters wouldn't be satisfied simply killing the Boy-Who-Lived. No, first they would want to torture him for awhile. That would give Vito a few critical seconds to work with. As he arrived at a deserted warehouse he felt the Anti-Apparition Ward slammed into place.

Vito instantly sent out a pulse attacking their Dark Marks, but as he suspected his former Death Eaters had found a way to block the pain. In the next second half a dozen spells came flying towards him. Instead of dodging he cast a Shield Charm in the shape of a dome, a feat which strained even his magic. A single Cruciatus Curse made it through the large Shield, but he kept on his feet despite the pain. The Death Eaters were so shocked by his stamina that they hesitated for a moment, and in that moment Vito cast a wide-ranging Conjunctivitis Curse. His attackers weren't truly blinded, but the curse damaged their eyesight and caused a great deal of confusion.

Now that he had time to evaluate the situation, Vito breathed a sigh of relief. The old crowd was here in force, but he knew their strengths. And more importantly, he knew all of their weakness. His first target was Rabastan Lestrange, who was the only person in the world his brother Rodolphus cared about. Bella's former husband was so shocked by his brother's sudden death he became a sitting duck himself. Mulciber fancied himself an intellectual, but he always fell back on the same spell chain during a fight, so Vito knew exactly when to shield and when to strike with the fatal blow.

Antonin Dolohov believed he was a master of non-verbal casting, but in truth it just made his spells weak. Especially his Shield Charm, which Vito smashed through with a nasty Reducto. Rookwood was a useful spy, but as a duelist he was no threat. Goyle and Crabbe were just as stupid as their sons, and a few esoteric Curses knocked them off balance. Vito finished-off the four of them with easy as he gracefully danced around the warehouse.

That left the two real threats: Theodore Nott and Lucius himself. Both wizards were talented duelists. Luckily Nott's mobility was limited by an old injury to his right knee. A minor Tarantallegra Curse caused him such pain that he fell to the floor. Once off his feet he became a simple kill. Lucius might have given Vito a respectable fight at this point, but instead the older wizard reacted like a bloody politician. He wanted to talk.

"Wait," Lucius shouted. "Who are you boy? No one your age should have been able to defeat us all."

Vito took a several deep breaths, and then transfigured two of the dead bodies into a pair of comfortable chairs. He sat down, carefully keeping his wand arm at the ready. "Lucius, I confess myself... disappointed."

Then he cast a Serpensortia spell, and began speaking in Parseltongue to the small snake that appeared in his right hand.

"That is impossible," a trembling Lucius said. "You are playing some sort of trick on me."

"You felt my magic calling to your Dark Mark just a few moments ago, just as you felt the Dark Mark that night in the Wizengamot. And who else could have killed the great Bellatrix Lestrange with nothing more than a sword? Who else could have defeated this many Death Eaters with no assistance?"

"I don't understand. Why didn't you make your presence known to us earlier?"

"Please don't insult my intelligence," Vito sneered. "If I had come to you as a child you have killed me. Don't bother to deny it."

"Perhaps, but you are no longer a child... my Lord. Now that I know the truth I would be honored to serve at your side once again."

"I'm sorry, but it's too late for that."

Lucius had many flaws, but no one ever accused him of being stupid. "You plan on using the Boy-Who-Lived as your figurehead? You would actually debase yourself in that manner?"

Vito gave his former servant a nasty smile. "Have you ever heard of the Beatles?"

The question was so unexpected that Lucius answered truthfully, rather than plead ignorance like a proper pureblood should. "Yes, they were a group of muggle musicians with those ridiculous haircuts. Cissy and her sister Andromeda bought several of their records when they were young girls."

"The Beatles had four members, but only two of them were of any importance. John Lennon was by far the more talented of these two muggles. A simply comparison of _Instant Karma_ and _Band on the __Run_ proves that conclusively. But while Paul McCartney was clearly the lesser talent, he had the rare ability to connect with the masses on a deep emotional level. It was only when these two different individuals worked together and combined their different talents that they achieved their greatest success."

"So you will use Potter to pacify the masses while you rule."

Vito shrugged his shoulders, but at the same time he raised the Elder Wand with blinding speed. Lucius tried to block the Killing Curse with a transfigured block of marble, but he was too slow. Far too slow.

The presence of all these bodies would raise questions Vito Potter could not truthfully answer, so he burned the warehouse until nothing was left but fine white ash. The sudden disappearance of the remaining Death Eaters would forever remain a mystery. A mystery that would serve the interests of the Potter brothers during their rise to power.

* * *

The party was in full swing in the Hufflepuff common room that night, and for the badgers all was right with the world. After his exhausting duel Vito quickly made his way back to the Chamber of Secrets, and retrieved one of the Time-Turners he had hidden there. At the very moment the Portkey trophy caused one Vito Potter to disappear from Hogwarts, another Vito Potter appeared from under Harry's Invisibility Cloak covered with green slime. The switch was perfectly timed, and of course Fred and George were blamed for pranking the trophy. A furious Headmaster Slughorn gave the twins detention for the rest of the school year.

"You gave a good speech today," Vito told his brother.

"Yeah, it gets easier every time I do it. Maybe after graduation I will be elected as the Ministry of Magic, so I can give boring speeches all the time," Harry joked.

"I sure hope so," Dora said as she brought them their third round of 'Puff-punch. "Anyone would be better than that idiot Fudge."

"Will someone please explain to me why I haven't killed those two yet?" Vito asked when he saw Hannah and Susan coming towards them holding their instruments.

"Shut up. You know how much I love watching you play the guitar," Dora said in a very seductive voice.

"Fine. I will play one song, but that's it," Vito muttered. One song would be more than enough to get his horny wife into the nearest broom closet.

"What do you feel like tonight?" Harry asked as they joined Colin Creevey up on the permanent stage the Hufflepuffs had built in the back of the common room. Vito answered him by strumming the opening chords of the first song they ever learned to play together. Harry responded with a huge grin and began singing.

_It was twenty years ago today_

_Sgt. Pepper taught the band to play_

_They've been going in and out of style_

_But they're guaranteed to raise a smile_


	25. Chapter 25

**Author's Note**: (1) I posted this story a few years ago under my old pen name, but later deleted it. Now I'm posting it again. (2) This epilogue is set nineteen years later in 2012.

* * *

"This is not how I wanted to spend my first year in office," Minister Potter said as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "Hermione, please tell us you have some good news."

It was obvious the Unspeakable had recently been crying, but she pulled herself together for this meeting. "I'm sorry Minister Potter, but the situation looks even worse than we originally feared. I brought my parents here to the Ministry of Magic at the first sign of trouble, but they and the other muggle we've been observing have the exact same symptoms. All the organs in their bodies are deteriorating at a progressive rate. Even if magical medicine worked well on muggles—and in most cases it doesn't—they would still be nothing we could do to save them."

The short report had taken everything out of Hermione, and she collapsed into the arms of her husband. All Cedric could do was hold her as she began to cry again.

"What about the muggleborn students at Hogwarts?" Headmaster Potter quietly asked the group. Harry had only been appointed to the position last year when Horace Slughorn died of a massive heart attack. Too many crystallized pineapples can do that, even to a wizard. "They will want to go home to be with their parents."

"Harry, you must keep them at Hogwarts. By force if necessary," Dora answered. "If any students leave the safety of the castle and enter the muggle world who knows what would happen to them. It is total chaos out there, and it is only going to get worse in the coming weeks."

"I agree, _mon cher_," Fleur Delacour said in a tender voice. "Gabrielle just told me over the Floo that Headmistress Maxime has already sealed the wards around Beauxbatons. We can not allow the children to come to any harm."

It was a common topic of debate in the pubs of magical world as to which Potter brother was the luckier bastard. Normally the one married to a Metamorphmagus would be the clear winner, but some argued that Harry had that beat. Not only was he married to Daphne Potter—the most attractive Minister of Magic in centuries—but his mistress was a Veela.

The trio had been inseparable since the year Vito won the Triwizard Tournament. Dora maintained that the two witches were really in love with each other, and were only using Harry as a sperm donor. Vito agreed, but didn't see the problem. Fleur had kept her maiden name, and gave her happy father five Delacour heirs. The trio had eight children in total, and all of them were beautiful. Of course young Tom and Merope Potter were both skilled Metamorphmagi like their mother, so Vito wasn't jealous of his brother on that score.

"This won't do," Daphne declared. "We can't deal with a situation like this on an ad hoc basis. We must to go to the Wizengamot, and have them declare Martial Law. What does my Chief Warlock think about that idea?"

Harry let out a deep sigh. He loved being the Chief Warlock almost as much as he loved being the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and he was a natural at both jobs. "The Wizengamot is terrified that this muggle disease will cross-over into the magical world, so if we present them a decisive plan of action they'll go along with it."

"Bill, how are things going in shops of Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade?" Daphne asked. "I'm guessing that maintaining a secure food supply will be our biggest problem."

Although Bill Weasley and his wife Cho were not technically part of the Ministry of Magic, Daphne had invited them to this emergency meeting anyway. After a war had mysteriously broken-out between the Goblins of Gringotts and the Gnomes of Switzerland, the wizards had finally decided to open their own bank. It had been a smart move, since both magical races were now extinct. The husband and wife team of Bill and Cho Weasley were the Co-CEOs of the First Magus Bank, and no one in Europe knew more about the magically economy than they did.

"Eighteen months ago you would have been right, but since the passage of the Agricultural Reform Act our food supply is now totally separate from the muggles." Bill replied.

"I am perfectly aware of what the Agricultural Reform Act does since I'm the one who actually wrote it," Daphne said through clenched teeth. "I just thought that we were still having problems with the black market."

"I dealt with the black marketers myself," Vito said.

Everyone in the room leaned back in their chairs in an effort to get farther away from him—even Harry and Dora. Vito had won the World Dueling Championship for seven straight years before retiring from official competition in his early twenties. And as the Director of Magical Law Enforcement he had personally slaughtered magical criminals on six continents. There was only one thing better than being a Dark Lord: being a Dark Lord with a badge. It made eliminating the competition so much easier.

"Cho, have you heard anything new from your sources in Asia?"

"No, I am afraid not. The outbreak of this disease is affecting every part of the muggle world in roughly the same way. It's just a bad in China, Japan, and Indonesia as it is here in Europe."

"I don't understand any of this," Cedric remarked. "I thought when the muggles started using Alkahest they had solved all of their medical problems."

The discovery of Alkahest had been hailed the most important medical advance in human history when it shown up under mysterious circumstances two years ago. Ads on the muggle internet guaranteed that it could cure any health problem, and it had worked as promised. Several governments tried to ban the new drug until it could undergo proper clinical trials, but it had been impossible to contain.

Around one-hundred and fifty thousand people die around the world each day, and a patient facing death isn't going to wait months or even years for the approval of someone in white lab coat when there is a chance to stay alive. From the hospitals Alkahest had quickly spread to the general population thanks to its cheap price. Why suffer through something as unpleasant as the common cold when you didn't have to?

"Oh Cedric, I knew that this was going to happen. I knew it," Hermione wailed. "This disease must be an unanticipated side-effect of Alkahest. That is the only explanation that makes sense to me and the other Unspeakables."

"But I've personally seen dozens of wizards and witches take the stuff, and none of them have gotten sick," Cedric said.

"Our research suggests that Alkahest only has this effect on the muggles," Hermione explained. "For some unknown reason our magic protects our bodies from any harm."

"That is the same conclusion I am hearing from my friends in the Chinese Ministry of Magic," Cho added softly. The two gifted witches and their husbands had become very close friends over the years.

_Very close_, Vito thought with a mental smirk.

"Dora, you seem nervous for some reason," Daphne said. A witch didn't become the Minister of Magic at her age without razor-sharp political instincts.

"Last night we carried out the Omega Protocol here in the United Kingdom," his wife blurted out. "So have all the other magical governments around the world."

The entire room froze, and for good reason. The Omega Protocol was a relic of the Cold War. Finding out that the Muggles had the atomic bomb in nineteen forty-five was bad enough, but during the Cuban Missile Crisis the two superpowers has almost destroyed the world. In response the ICW had developed a plan to seize control of all the world's modern nuclear weapons in case of an emergency. The Omega Protocol included the use of all three of the Unforgivable Curses on a global scale.

"And on whose authority did you take such a drastic action?" Daphne asked in a cold voice.

"On my authority as both the Director of the DMLE, and as the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards," Vito replied.

While he had been willing to settle for a secondary position here in the United Kingdom for political reasons, the ICW was another matter. There Vito had insisted on having the top job, and no other wizard in the international organization was willing to dispute the awesome power of the Elder Wand.

"Daphne! Vito! Will you both just calm down," Harry pleaded. "I am sure that my brother has a perfectly reasonable explanation for his actions. Don't you?"

"As Hermione just pointed out, this sickness is only affecting the muggles. When they find out that wizards and witches are immune they are going to want to capture us for study. Or maybe they will just attack us out of pure spite. Either way, depriving them of their nuclear weapons seems like a sensible precaution to me. They can't really hurt us with their more conventional forces."

"You made the right decision," Daphne snapped. "Just don't make a habit out of ignoring the chain of command."

"Of course not, Minister Potter."

* * *

Vito was content to play the humble servant for now, because in a few days the chain of command was going to undergo a major reorganization. The Alkahest Crisis required strong, centralized leadership. The ICW and its young Supreme Mugwump would provide that leadership—whether Daphne and her foreign colleagues liked it or not.

As more muggles died from the effects of Alkahest, the struggle for the remaining resources would lead to riots and then to wars. These wars would produce mass causalities, and outbreaks of virulent diseases would soon follow. In desperation they would turn to Alkahest again despite the known risks, and the vicious cycle would start over. According to his calculations the muggle population would drop below a hundred million in less than five years.

By that point the survivors would be reduced to steam-powered technology, which would allow the ICW to openly seize power with minimal risk to its own Aurors. The newly conquered muggles would be treated well. Vito had developed a quick and painless spell that would sterilize the males. The females would act as surrogates for fertilized zygotes donated by carefully selected magical couples. If all went according to plan the magical population of the world would climb from its current two million to over forty million by the end of the twenty-first century. This rapid population growth would be greatly aided by the mass production of the Elixir of Life.

Or Alkahest, if you preferred its more poetic muggle name.

As for Harry Potter and the **Power the Dark Lord Knows Not**? Over the years Vito had continued to study his brother, but to no avail. However the day he discovered Harry's ultimate secret... that would be the day Harry died. Until then there was much work to be done.


End file.
